onset of reality

Here you will find my new blog

2008-10-28T21:55:00.000-05:00

http://realityiselastic.blogspot.com/

love,
Philip

One last post

2008-09-17T16:31:00.002-05:00

http://wunc.org/tsot/archive/sot0917c08.mp3/view

Requiem for a Blog

2008-09-13T18:32:00.002-05:00

I never saw one of your faces
I never heard the sound of your voice
I never saw you move, get up from your chair, laugh
We never had a conversation*
But your comments entered into my life
A series of pixels that somehow managed to move and make an impression on me
I wrote many words
What I have heard is that the words meant something over the years, to some of you
Ending this blog is a bit like a divorce.
I still love it, in fact I love it more now that it's going away
But it's time for it to go away and I think I can do more good writing
as a person, who is not labeled as sick
What I hope to do is show that a normal person can sometimes feel the same as someone with bipolar
And because you have these feelings you should not feel stigmatized
that goes for those of us who have the diagnosis as well
A bipolar blog no more
but a blog of a young man

Onset of Reality

2008-08-31T14:05:00.003-05:00

Hi Everyone,
I started this blog three years ago as a way to cope with the pain of mental illness. Since then I've been hospitalized for bipolar mania a third time. On my way out of the hospital after a two week stay, I decided that I would never again let myself get sick enough to be committed.

This blog has been a place for me to discuss my pain and foster an increasingly dwindling forum for discussion. I haven't had any comments for what seems like a couple months now. That is not the reason I am making the following decision.

I will be shutting down Onset of Reality for good. 280 posts later, I have found that I have no desire to talk about bipolar disorder. My posts are becoming more and more about my life apart from mental illness and it would be a misnomer to post these entries on what is a part of the Bipolar Webring. Three years of therapeutic writing later, I am ready to put my illness behind me and not write as a person with mental illness, but a person. If my blog has helped any of you over the years I am grateful. I will download my entire blog so I have it on my hard drive. Perhaps something will become of it over time.

I will post a link to my new blog once it has been arranged. Thanks for your attention over the years.
best,
Pjbrubak

Dating again

2008-08-24T14:10:00.004-05:00

It's a very lonely business, dating. Not knowing if there is a connection, but still babbling away, trying to balance self-expression with good listening. Always second-guessing how you're doing vis a vis your date. Is she into me? What can I do to get her approval? You hit upon all of your insecurities. Mine is that I don't show the girl I care about her. I should kiss her after the date to show her I'm interested. After I kiss her, everything will fall into place. Should I kiss her??? No, better to wait for a more romantic moment. But if I don't act romantically we'll quickly become friends and she'll get bored! Where does confidence figure into all this?

Outwardly everything went fine on the first date I had today. It lasted for three hours. But the whole time I was thinking she was bored. We talked and talked and walked and walked. Along the way we ran into several people who knew me. It made me look good and I think may have impressed her. They were all asking me about my latest documentary and when it will premiere. It also felt good to see some familiar faces as it was kind of unpleasant to spend all this time with someone I didn't know. Yes, unpleasant. So why am I going to call her again? Because I'm learning you have to go through some unpleasant times to get to trust. I am mature enough to know that building a relationship is not about instant gratification. Wouldn't it be nice to hit it off with someone right away and fall in love quickly. It's not happening for me that way right now. Maybe she's not the one. But I am not ready for the one. I need more relationship practice. She's a Republican. I think I can look past that. We had spirited debates about politics and Michael Moore among other things. She hates Michael Moore. I like him. But I agree he's a propagandaist. She is hot and nerdy. She's a recreational therapist for child cancer patients. I gave her a DVD of a promo I created for Rock Against Cancer, a group which uses music as recreational therapy.

Like the guy that I am, I am physically attracted. I can safely say that I like this girl. But I am so insecure in the way I interact with women. I have dated real b****es in my life. Now, in alone time, I can see that I did a fine job today. The time to kiss a girl is at night. Ours was a coffee date at midday. I could have shook her hand. Maybe a conservative girl is not interested in hugs. Her hug was a little unenthusiastic. Whatever. I handled myself exactly the way I wanted to today. It's her problem if she doesn't appreciate it. I didn't tell her I was bipolar...I'm waiting for a better opportunity. She talked about herself nearly the whole time and I listened. I got tired of listening. She didn't ask me about myself at all.

We had some fun. She stopped on the sidewalk and looked at a flier for an animal show in Raleigh next weekend. I asked if her she wanted to go. She said maybe, so I took the flier. We have another date. Isn't that a hopeful feeling?

Too cool for my own good?

2008-08-23T17:27:00.003-05:00

Like many bloggers I use my site for self-absorbed navel gazing. Which I will do now.

There is that phenomenon of the bipolar person having a push-pull relationship with the rest of the world. We pull in some people and then push them away. We never fully become integrated in the universality and connectedness of the rest of mankind. This is something that I've experienced. This "push-pull" phenom manifests itself in my relationships with women. I try a little to win girls over, then push them away. I don't want to try too hard, whether its with girls or my job or my films. What would that mean? Not all bipolars have this kind of mentality, although I think it others it is often called laziness. I don't think laziness exists, I think there is only fear. Fear of failure, fear of pain, these are the things that keep people like sloths.

I heard from my producer today that my documentary is not right for Sundance because it is not "universal" enough. This is meant for me not to hunker down the hundred or so dollars to apply to the festival only to be met with disappointment. I was hurt! She is probably (make that definitely) right about me not getting accepted, but I wanted to try at least. She cushioned the news by saying that I made the film I wanted to make. Which was true. But now I'm salivating at the possibility of my film reaching a mass audience.

My next film is more universal. And I know how I could make it even more so. I could add a lot of voiceover and turn it into a personal "searching" doc where I go on a quest to find somebody. This is a tried and true device, whether it's Michael Moore in "Roger and Me" or the guy in the recent film "Bigger Stronger Faster." My deal is that I see all these universal conventions as cliches. I want my film to be different. I want an original form of stortytelling. People want to see the same story recycled over and over again. I want my audience to think. The "hero on a journey" story will never die because it is as old as the hills. I push away a broad audience and I pull in the select few.

Near-Amnesia

2008-08-19T20:06:00.002-05:00

Who am I? Where am I going?

Relevant questions to all armchair philosophers. But also the scourge of many a poor person with persistent memory loss. I, my friends, am headed in that direction. These days I can hardly remember words that were spoken to me only a few minutes earlier. My memory has gotten so bad, and I have such little confidence in it now, that I fear it has something to do with my bipolar condition. Are the meds eroding my cognitive abilities? Maybe my right brain is taking over. I do something creative everyday, while I hardly do math problems (and when I do I usually do them wrong). I take a notepad wherever I go at work and that is very helpful. Still, a 28 year old man should not have to be concerned at forgetting why he walked into the room or the point of the story he's telling. My dad has a notoriously awful memory. He is a member of the CRS Club, a group of middle-aged men who meet for lunch once week. CRS stands for Can't Remember Shit. Maybe I inherited this condition from my dad. It's a little scary because I can recall having more of an attuned mind. As a matter of fact, when I was in high school...wait...what was I going to say? Never mind. I take four capsules of fish oil every day. I've been doing that for seven years. Shouldn't that count for something? I drink plenty of water. Water's good for everything, right? They say exercise helps mental acuity. Perhaps I should jog more. When I'm hypomanic, my mind is a steel trap. It's only when I'm laidback that I can't remember my middle name. Could there be some truth to that? When you're anxious is it easier to access that coveted part of your brain where memory resides? That's true for me. Apathy is my sidekick these days. Apathy about my job, apathy about my life. My parents have left me housesitting for two weeks. I've got to care more about the things that concern me. If the events in my life mean something to me, I will remember them. My well being does matter. Fight to remember.

StReSs and AnXieTy

2008-08-14T21:29:00.003-05:00

I can't sleep. It's 10:30pm and I need to be awake in less than 8 hours. I drive 45 minutes to work everyday. It's hard to be fully awake in the morning. I take three meds. Today I started something new. I edited my documentary when I woke up, in hopes that it would energize me. It did! I will do the same thing tomorrow. Coffee just doesn't work.

I am worried about tomorrow. It's hard for me to control my worrying and my anxiety so I thought writing about it would help. I am under WAY more stress than any bipolar person should go through. My company has a deadline to have several corporate videos edited together for a big expo in Vegas next week. These videos cover different aspects of my company and their products. As seems to be the pattern where I work, the higher ups wait til the last minute to get their shit together and tell us underlings what they want. What happens then is we don't get our instructions til the last minute and have to stress and crank out seven videos in a day. My boss is at the end of her rope. I don't know how anyone could have her job as she has to interface between ten employees who do different things and then her demanding bosses. I don't know how she hasn't lost her mind. She used to work with mentally ill children, so I confided in her that I was bipolar.

They say that the key to serenity is being at peace with the things you can't change. That's true and I should remember that. But my dopamine level is high and I can't take extra meds b/c then I won't be able to get my ass out of bed.

I am afraid. What am I afraid of? I know what it is. Embarassment. I am afraid I will demonstrate myself to be incompetent and be embarassed. Embarassment isn't so bad, you're probably saying. What's bad is what comes after. The self-abuse. The tortuous, pounding-in-the-head stinkin' thinkin that tells me I need to feel bad for making a mistake. I need to feel bad and humiliated. I have felt out of it for a lot of our group brainstorming sessions with the VP, who is dictating to all of us what we need to do. When I get scared I get confused. I'm not on the same page with everyone and have a hard time following the discussion. I have never collaborated with someone so powerful as the VP of my company. I was intimidated by him at first. He heads up the European division of our company. He's English. He's got a sense of humor but he is also stern and demanding.

There, I've said it. I've said what I'm afraid of. I think there are only two fears in this world: Fear of pain and fear of death. You might say fear of pain covers them both.

If we don't finish all these videos by tomorrow, we'll have to come in to work on Saturday. I hope it all works out. I just want to get some sleep.

Bipolar as a tiger

2008-07-26T20:47:00.003-05:00

This illness in me I keep at bay. I have tamed the tiger through years of medication, hospitalizations and self awareness.

I have raised this tiger from a cub. We are now at the point where I can enter into her cage, barely armed. When she snarls I know to take a step back. When she recoils I stand my ground. When she purrs, I stick out my hand and warm her forehead with a stroke.

She will not attack me. She no longer can, as I am too quick for her. When I leave the cage, I know she must stay in there. I on the other hand, am free.

Like sands in an hourglass..

2008-07-15T16:13:00.003-05:00

Today I was anxious and self-critical while editing my film in Raleigh. Some of this was understandable. I was in a brand new, intimidating situation. I was expected to make assertive decisions. Myself, an easygoing guy when happy, was not used to giving direction - particularly over something so minute as whether the music level is 0 or -1. After awhile the ice broke, through the help of some humor on my part. Everybody seemed more relaxed after awhile. Many people there, including my producer, are ex-L.A. types. Get this. Rather than saying she was going to the ladies room, my producer said, "I'm going to skip to the loo." I felt like an awkward, inexperienced boy. I wasn't slick, I was nervous. I feel awkward around people period. It doesn't have to be this way. I

had a plan to taper off of Zyprexa completely. I'm down to 10mg. It's meant only for psychosis, so once bipolar mania has passed, theoretically you don't need to take it anymore. I believe it's the most expendable of my cocktail. Although I would love to be med free. Once Zyprexa is gone I can see where I'm at and then make a decision. There's a lot of work that can be done in my mind. Not putting so much pressure on myself; not feeling like I need to hide my feelings by saying things I don't mean; avoiding negative influences. I work out about twice a week on average. Yoga, walking/jogging, swimming, weights. That helps me. It would help anybody.

I am having a great vacation. It has been very balanced. Sure, in some social situations it has been...painful, but when I'm alone I'm having a ball. I bought a laptop yesterday. I really dig Apple technology, man. It was good to spend some of the money that I've accrued through my new job. I'm also talking to girls on Match.com. Life has promise.

The Filmmaking Process Continues

2008-07-09T19:32:00.003-05:00

My documentary is almost ready to be unveiled to the public. Tonight I put my external hard drives in a box and handed them over to my producer. She's going to take them to Raleigh tomorrow morning where the editors will pore through them and make sure they have everything they need. The whole movie is now in their hands. Everything about that movie is on those drives. I felt like I was handing over an infant. I have no control right now over what happens to the drives. I hope they take good care of them. They will of course, it's in everybody's best interest to preserve the contents of those precious firewires.

Next week I will spend all day in Raleigh supervising the editing process. Tweaking the color of every shot. Mixing all the sound meticulously. It will be grueling arduous work. I look forward to it.

Now I am getting ready to go to bed at a reasonable hour.

Jessica

2008-07-04T18:28:00.004-05:00

she's in alaska now
frozen in my memory
i can see her stalking the bears
conquering the mountain tops
falling in love with those
who are more like her

i do not know love
i have never been
i know she was the closest I came
i tried

the beautiful ones
never make it easy for you, do they?

could i have changed her mind?
romantic ghosts
clouding your brain
are merely that-
ghosts?

a solid foundation is
the bedrock of any
relationship

with us
there was no bedrock
it was like looking into a mirror
and seeing yourself as another person

she met me at a pivotal time in my life
life was a scavenger hunt
she was one of the pieces i was to collect
we were to go to the comedy club
i would volunteer for open mic night
and impress her.

i made her a homemade card
made from a photo I took of a joshua tree
she always loved my photographs
and i wrote her some scratch along the side
"electronic music is what your voice sounds like underwater"
even in 20/20 hindsight, I know I was right about that
seals in antarctica sound like pink floyd through the ice

i never gave her the card
or mix cd i made for her
with songs picked specifically
to show how much i loved her
i never kissed her
but when i was hospitalized
she was the first person i called
i called her at work and told her i liked her
she asked if she could call me back
i gave her the number to the ward
but she never called.

she gave me a hug when i returned to work.

could a kiss have turned her around?
i didn't want to lose the little i had
which was a friend.

what if i had kissed her-

A response to z0tl

2008-06-29T20:53:00.002-05:00

z0tl, I enjoy your distinctly West Coast-ian musings. In my first three months at this job, I was a human dynamo. Not only that, I had a sense of humor that cheered everyone up and I didn't take things too seriously. Since becoming a permanent employee, and given a raise to boot (my dad hasn't gotten a raise for six years and he works for a much bigger corporation) I started to take the job more seriously, and I think succumbed to ennui in some small sense. While it's nice to think there are no mistakes, if my job is a test, I gave a wrong answer. I'm looking at it in terms of losing or keeping my job. In that schematic, there are right and wrong answers. Yes, its true losing this job might be great for me, but I see it as a stepping stone to a better situation. One where I don't need to live in a cultural vacuum and sit on my ass all day, editing too much and there fore having no desire to work on my own projects. What's keeping me there? The money and the experience. I'm learning about the software that I use on my own films and I'm getting paid to do it. Money is not to be sneezed at either. The money I save could go towards grad school. I don't mind living simply, and I have nearly all the equipment I need to keep making my small scale documentaries. It's always good to have money. Have I beaten this to death yet? Anyway, I don't mean to alienate you or anyone who reads this blog so feel free to spar with me verbally. Or in this case, literally. But not literally.

I did it!

2008-06-21T19:30:00.004-05:00

The old switcheroo went off without a hitch. After waiting an excruciating four days for the Russian DVDs to arrive, arrive they did. My boss was still in her office, a scant two offices down from mine. I had all the newly burned DVDs ready. I grabbed a pair of scissors and struggled opening the box. I was so nervous. I finally got it open and saw a box full of styrofoam peanuts. I fished my hand in there and found the DVDs. Whew! I set up an empty box at my feet to hold the discarded DVDs. With my back turned to the door, I rapidly opened each clamshell, tossed the DVD into the box and stacked the empty clamshells out of sight on my hard drive. It must have taken three minutes. My heart was pumping. My sense of hearing was augmented. I listened carefully for the clop clop of my bosses' stilettos. A couple of times I heard it and stashed the box under my desk...but she never actually came into my office. If she had, she would have undoubtedly had questions about what I was doing with this box of 50 DVDs. Now, I had to repackage all these fifty DVDs I had burned. I dove right in. When I was finished, I had about 10 clamshells left over! My god, had I not burned enough DVDs? They were supposed to send only 50! I quickly counted the repackaged DVDs, aware that my boss could come in at any moment. Nope, 50 DVDs exactly! They must have sent extras...I placed the extra clamshells under my desk. I was almost there! I nestled the DVDs under the styrofoam peanuts and covered them. I was done. I gave the box to my co-conspirator who resealed it and readied it for shipment. NO ONE WAS THE WISER. The next day at two o'clock, I heard the familiar sound of garbage bins being emptied. It was the custodian making her daily rounds. I took the stack of faulty Russian DVDs and dumped it in our garbage. She took 'em. Tossed 'em in her big garbage can. And that was that. I got away with what was probably the biggest deception of my life. It was all for the best. If I had told my boss I fucked up the original Russian DVDs it would have been bad for us both. Thinking back, I don't know what it was that made me revisit the Russian video on my computer. If I hadn't I never would have known that the narration was completely fucked up. One of our customers from Russia would undoubtedly have called us. And then, I would have eaten it. In my mind, I am a little unnerved at how smoothly it went. I half expect my boss to find this blog post....HA! Whatever, I'm so money.

Necessary Evil

2008-06-12T18:31:00.004-05:00

I hate my job.

I hate the town I work in.

and I hate the fact - that I will always find fault with whatever job I have.

Why can't we be more laidback, like they are in Europe? Employee unions! Flexible hours! LOW STRESS.

Today I was thinking about quitting because I was so stressed and not digging the corporate environment very much. I am bipolar, I don't do well with stress. My main source of stress is anxiety. This anxiety is caused by fear I experience on the job, namely, the fear of getting yelled at by my boss. That's all it is. Fear of being reprimanded. I made a big fucking mistake. A bad mistake. The kind of mistake that when you're as manic as I am...makes you want to commit seppuku.

I've been so burnt out because my job of late has become very rote and mechanical. I edit videos of our products into different languages. Sixteen languages. Each video is about 15 minutes. Do the math, four videos into sixteen languages. That's what I've been doing the past couple months. It's brainless. Since it's so repetitive, I have a tendency to let my brain wander, not to mention because I have been overstimulated recently.

Here's my mistake: I forgot to remove the English language track from the Russian video. What does that mean? It means that people who watch the DVD are going to hear two people talking at once the whole time; one in English, one in Russian. Yes, it's a bad mistake, but it could have been worse. We only ordered 50 DVDs to be duplicated for this country. My co-worker, who has been working there for a few years, is very jaded. She's made a few big, bone-headed mistakes recently, as have I. We decided that rather than tell our boss about the mistake...we would correct it without her even noticing...

We have a DVD burner in our office. The duped Russian DVDs are supposed to arrive at our office tomorrow. We decided to burn 50 copies of the corrected video ourselves and switch them out with the ones coming tomorrow. We got an image file we could use to print on the DVDs, and I set it up to burn the DVDs at night when there's nobody there. Tomorrow, without my boss noticing, I will open the package, remove all of the old DVDs from their cases, and replace them with the newly burned version. It's just crazy enough to work!

I'll be sure and let everyone know how it turns out. I'm mello yello now, because I just took 50mg of Quetipetine Fumarate!

2008-06-10T23:12:00.000-05:00

STOP

2008-06-05T20:56:00.001-05:00

what you're doing right now and go to this link:

http://www.sundancechannel.com/greenporno

Between

2008-06-02T20:47:00.002-05:00

Between eating well
and getting fat
with jams and grease
and cushy job
where I push pencils instead
of pallets
I am losing my edge.

I
click
and
click
I eat McDonalds
click click
eat eat
my mouse is exhausted
but I am merely sore in the back
and not seeing my feet in the shower.

Art is anger, sometimes
and when there is nothing
to be angry about-
-there is no art.

Here I have resorted to getting
angry about my lack of anger.

This poem has eaten itself
with jam and grease
and a McShake.

Things Move On

2008-06-02T18:12:00.003-05:00

Remember how I said I was going to finish my documentary? That was wishful thinking. I finished that particular version, but it was met with a flurry of notes by my producer. Eviscerating notes in some places - although, the intial read seemed a lot more painful than once it all set in. There is still a lot of work to be done. But the good thing is, my response to her has energized us both. Working on this movie is exciting again. A collaboration is always more exciting than a solo project.

I have made peace about moving closer to work. I am ready and willing. I've gotten over the fact that I will be living in a boring town. There have to be some exciting elements to it. I just have to find them. Plus, I can always come back up here for weekends. During the week I mostly just go home and be a homebody. The Internet is my link to the rest of the world.

Got too much to do in too few hours now. See ya.

Oh, and by the way, I did see the new Indiana Jones movie. Meh.

Excitement

2008-05-31T12:32:00.003-05:00

Today is the day I will finish my documentary. It has to be so because I'm showing it to my producer tomorrow. Everything that needs to be shot has been shot. It is now a matter of editing. I am almost there.

My computer has been frustrating me. The editing program keeps quitting unexpectedly and sometimes I lose work. I have searched high and low for the answer to this problem. I tried the Apple Store Genius Bar twice. Tried Apple Care hotline twice. I submitted queries online. One of my posts was read by over 6,500 people, and no one could offer a solution. It seems like such a simple problem, I don't why no one knows how to fix it.

Last night I went swimming. It was great. I never played any sports as a kid, but now I realize daily physical activity is so important. So good for the brain, not just the body. I slept late today. Man it was good. I am still physically tired from swimming. I hadn't swam in years, but I did 15 laps. Still got it!
Once this film is done, I can't tell you how relieved I will be. Hopefully I will be whisked away into the film industry once the doc becomes successful and I can quit my job. Just a dream.

Weekends are so short. The life of a working man. At my job we go through blank DVDs pretty quickly. We burn DVDs of the corporate videos we make every day. Naturally, the DVD spindles (which come in packs of 50 or 100 DVDs) are discarded when we have used up all the DVDs, which are put into paper sleeves. Each DVD spindle comes with a plastic housing that fits over top of it and can be locked into place. The 50 DVD cover is shallower than the 100 DVD.

We also have a small plant in our office. It started small when I first got here, but now it's gotten too big for it's tiny pot. Don't know how, there's no sun in my office, but every day I would water it some. I got the idea that the plant needed a new home, where it could flourish. I also noticed that we had these plastic DVD housings piling up. Being green-minded, I had an idea.

The 50 DVD housing fits perfectly into the 100 DVD housing. My idea was to drill five holes in the 50 DVD housing, turn it upside down, and stick into the upside down 100 DVD housing. I would then fill it with small pebbles and dirt and repot the plant into it.

Saturday is sweet, but Sunday is full of dread. I might see Indiana Jones tonight.
Have a great day.

Happy Memorial Day

2008-05-25T19:03:00.004-05:00

Today I feel something. Sure, in the past two weeks I've felt the sun on the back of my neck. I've felt the palpitating heartbeat hearing the clip clop of my boss's stilettos as she approaches my office. I've tasted delicious spaghetti and meat sauce made with fresh mint and grass-fed local livestock. I've felt the pleasure of sleeping late these past two days. Late! Late used to be one, and now it's ten. I've gotten so used to getting up before the sun because of my new job. I work full time, occasionally overtime now. I commute forty-five minutes each way to a boring town that is on the poverty line, but is home to many internationally known corporations. I make corporate videos. My bank account is padded.

I'm planning a move to the aforementioned boring town. It is clear that I will work there for at least a year. This is my life now. The wheels are in motion. I am healthy and financially fit to live on my own. I will move.

The job is as good as anyone can hope for. I make over twice as much as I made at the grocery store. I leave my old boss in the dust. Six and a half years of hard work, and I was passed up for promotion multiple times. Ninety days at my new job and they give a raise. If you have to work a day job, it doesn't get any better than this. I spend all day using a Mac, editing videos. This is the same setup I have at home, even the same software. The best part is when I learn something new about the editing program from my co-worker. She is fine. She gets a little too righteous when it comes to correcting me on mistakes I've made. I'm still a learner.

I don't really talk to anyone else except her and my boss, who frequently stops by. She is a picture of anxiety. She handles it fairly well, as it is obvious she is freaking. Her mom used to beat her, which I think is the only reason why she tolerates her boss berating her to the point of tears every now and then. The CEO is her boss. He is a seventy-two year old man who is very tall and fat and moves very slowly. He congratulated me on my write up in the New York Times. He has always been nice to me and my co-worker. My boss gets his rancor, which she then distills and passes it on to us in more benign form.

I am growing a gut. I don't like it. My lifestyle has been mostly sedentary since starting this job. I sit all day. At the last job I was always rushing around, always on my feet. It was a workout. Not to mention that I am getting lazy at making my own lunches. I'm sick of roast beef on rustic bread. That translates to me eating fast food a few times a week. Growing a gut. I've started to get more cardio, but I must admit I am feeling a little powerless about the whole thing.

No girlfriend, in fact, my membership with Match.com has lapsed. Didn't meet the One. Or if I did, it didn't work out. I'm debating whether or not to plunk down the fifty dollars requisite for another three months. I'll have to change my bracket from my current community of lotus-eaters to the vacuous industrial town in which I will soon live. I am getting rusty with women. I have gotten more set in my ways, become more of a man. Communicating with women is harder. A joke is still the straightest line between two points. So I can at least do that.

I felt something today. And I feel it now, as I take a break from editing my documentary. It pertains to women. My mom and I had an argument. She was the one doing most of the arguing and I mostly stood politely and absorbed the blows. The best way to handle her is to keep cool. She is Polish and suffering from fibromyalgia; constant pain all the time. I mention those two factors to explain her anger, which is how she explained it to me. She was pissed that I didn't puff up my biography enough when I submitted an article to a Polish film journal. The editor is a friend of the family and why she chose today to express her fear is beyond me. I submitted the bio weeks ago and she never even saw it. But she was flip-fucking furious at me and yelling and yelling. She admitted it was partly because she felt guilty she didn't look at it before I emailed it. She got her PhD in Poland in Economics and so she said she knew how academia worked in Poland. I revisited what I wrote to the editor and I think it was fine.

Mom expressed some sadness that she has to speak a foreign language with her son. It is a little hard for me too, knowing I don't have that direct connection to my mom and her family. She speaks very good English, but there is a barrier between us. Now, this might all be well and good, as your Mom is not meant to be the most significant person in your adult life. I want to make a film about my mother's life. That is the best way I can connect with her and her heritage. Learning Polish is something that I want to do, but don't see myself actually putting in the effort to do it. For this film, I've been writing down stories she's told at the dinner table after having a hot meal and a beer. She's got some great stories...

I feel melancholy about my mother and I not being able to fully connect. I also feel exhausted after spending hours editing a short interview for documentary. I don't know why this one was so draining. But then I think about what is the control and the variable. This interview was with a a woman. The other three were all with men. Being kind to the woman with my editor's knife, but at the same keeping things moving cinematically - this is the balancing act. Editing is like sculpture more than any other art form. You see the slab, which is forty minutes of video. You know you have to whittle it down to a minute, fifty seconds. First, you select all of it and watch it all. Then, as you go, you see the things you don't need. You take them out. You patch it together with photographs or other shots. It's exhilarating. Soon, you have a finished product that you can be proud of. This is what I do at work all day. This is what I do when I get home from work every day. This is what I do.

Today I passed up the chance to go to a Memorial Day barbecue with an old co-worker. I just didn't want to be around people. It was an honest extension of friendship directed at me. I sometimes complain that no one calls me, no one wants to hang out with me. But when it does come, I shun it. Why? Because I know I won't enjoy myself. Call me an introvert, call me a loner. I'm old enough to know what I like. Life and I have an understanding. A mutual respect. All those times that people have said to me, "You need to take more risks! You need to put yourself out there!" Those times, they made me feel like I was doing something wrong with my shyness. They made feel inadequate. In recent years I realized: I knew what I was doing all along. Here I am with you, words on a page, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be.

A New Post

2008-05-10T08:02:00.002-05:00

all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
haha just kidding

What do you say?

2008-04-27T18:18:00.003-05:00

We dated on and off for two years. If I have any faithful readers, they will recall who this is. She was devout Christian and I wasn't. I never took it to the next level. We were very close. Even when she got together with some other guy, she still hesitated before leaving my car after a date. She was waiting to see if I would kiss her. Was she the one that got away? Was I?

The friendship ended on a sour note. I fucked up some of the photographs I was hired to create for her wedding. Left a red filter on the camera when shooting color. The filter was there because I was shooting infrared film in the desert. I just forgot it was there. It didn't show up in the viewfinder. The black and white shots of her wedding turned out great. But the color turned out Satanic red. The bridesmaids staring at the camera and smiling looked like hellkittens. I botched it and she didn't speak to me after that. I waived the rest of my fee.

At one point in our friendship she asked if she would still have time to hang out with me once she's married.

Cut to three years later.

I still had her email in my inbox. I was written about in the editorial section of the New York Times. What the hell, I thought. I'll forward her the link. I didn't expect a response but I got one. Short. "Hey, congratulations! New York Times is big stuff..!" That was all. Then I found her on Facebook. I had recently been suckered into it. A friend sent me a link to her page and the only way to view it was to join. It's kinda fun. Better than MySpace.

I found my old friend there. We had several mutual acquaintances. I approached her via email. I added her as a friend and awaiting her confirmation, I wrote her a message: "Friends?" She accepted my friend request and wrote on my wall: "Friends!"

One curious thing...she asked me to corrobarate our relationship...She said our connection was "We went to college together" It made me wonder why she had to confirm this with me? Did she think we were an item? She is married now and I'm not interested in fighting over her. Still, I find her very attractive. A big reason we never got together was because of her faith. I don't know if it would work out to have an agnostic man in her life.

What now? What do you say to a person like this? I want to talk to her. Mom and Dad suggested I start with "How are you doing??

Hello?

2008-04-26T21:35:00.001-05:00

What's up? I don't feel like writing, but I thought I'd check in. Anybody out there?

Just ate a cookie

2008-04-24T17:20:00.002-05:00

Tonight is a big birthday dinner for my mom: 59 years old. She still looks good. She goes to the gym like three times a week. I always enjoy eating at nice restaurants with the family. We have a tradition of sharing our desserts with one another, so everyone can get a sample. We all love desserts. I will definitely order one tonight.

The restaurant we are going to is one we have been to many times. Mom likes it so she picked it again. It is part of the co-op where I used to work for six and a half years. I hope the menu is more varied than it's been for the past several years...the selection is rather stale. But I should probably not get my hopes up. I'm sure I'll find something good. I never order pizza there, so maybe I'll do that.

There is a girl at work who made it clear she likes me. I did nothing which equals rejection. She was kind of pouty for a while but now she is friendlier. I ask myself, "Why didn't anything happen?" She was very flirty and I didn't know how to handle it! I'm an educated, city-wise intellectual and she is a country girl who never went to college. So there were some sparks there from the fact that we were opposites - but beneath it all I don't think we had anything in common.

I'm so involved in different projects now - all of them centered around my business: Bigger Boat Productions. I could easily spend all my time doing that. But I'm lonely and I love people. When I get my new place I want to have a big party and invite all my friends. I've never really been on my own and never thrown a party so it will be a big deal.

Lotsa life changes these days. New career, new company, new success. New girlfriend is next on the horizon...but probably not until after new place. :)

Tired

2008-04-18T21:51:00.002-05:00

I'm tired physically, but also from the blog. I try to make every post brilliant. Each entry a work of great literature. No, I'm not being pretentious, that's really what I'm thinking when I sit down to write one of these things. I will become a more infrequent blogger, if I wasn't already one to begin with.

Highlights of the day: ate some delicious carrot cake. It's Friday. I saw some good old friends. Got the whole weekend ahead of me. Had some fun on Facebook. Good day.

I need to sit down and some editing this weekend, but all I've been doing this week at work is editing. I'm sick of staring at a Mac. I like Macs and all, but come on this is ridiculous.

Gotta go

Sandy Impressions

2008-04-13T20:36:00.005-05:00

This weekend I went to Oak Island on the North Carolina coast. I was videotaping a wedding for two of my friends who appeared in my documentary. They both have schizo-affective disorder. The bride is taking so many meds she is rather aloof, but she had enough to smile about that day. They were both grinning with glee all day. I am touched by the fact that two people with mental illness can find love. The groom had said that he couldn't imagine a person with mental illness marrying anyone other than a fellow sufferer. "You understand one another," the bride said, "You know when the other is having a hard time and you don't get scared."

The wind was whipping sand all around us during the beachside ceremony. In preparation I wrapped saran wrap tightly around the camera lens and secured it with a thick rubberband. It worked quite well. After a tender kiss, the newlywed couple walked down the sandy aisle to the wooden boardwalk as they began their journey to matrimony. The reception was low key to the point of being brief, with the most memorable moment being a tender karaoke version of Elton John's "Your Song" directed at the loving pair.

I spent the weekend with several other "touched" individuals, me being one of them. I ran on the beach and shouted at the wind with my schizophrenic friend. He is a chain smoker and after we stopped (he was going at a good clip and I had to push to stay ahead of him) he began coughing with frightening violence. There was no one else on the beach and we screamed together on the count of three. Only the waves responded. We grasped at shells before the tide pulled them away forever or maybe til they were brought back again moments later, looking different, hovering in the surf. My friend walked from the hotel to the water barefoot as he wasn't prepared enough to bring flip-flops or sandals. He had to step gingerly over gravel to get to our destination; it was like walking on hot coals for him. My friend spends all his time alone in the house his mother rents for him, rarely seeing anyone. At the motel he was the picture of isolation. He almost blended into the dark corners of the room, saying little and when the words did come, they were oddly timed in the rhythm of the conversation and no one would acknowledge them. The other roommates spent the day attacking thirty-six beers, which they killed between the two of them in a matter of hours. I dined on flounder stuffed with blue crab topped with a lemon cream sauce and served with grits and a mixture of broccoli and squash. Fantastic.

The weekend was wonderful and it was made so sweet by my daydreams of a better life for an artist. I planned to travel on my own and venture out of my inhibiting surroundings. I remembered a friend in Poland who taught film at a university and his kindness when my dad and I met him at a pub in Poznan. He and my dad hadn't seen each other in thirty years. On a few beers we spoke with him (his English was quite good) on the topic of films and he asked me to write an article for the cinema journal his university publishes. I was very excited and immediately took him up on it and said I would work on it right away. That was nine months ago. I could never find the time probably because I found the task to be so daunting. I would write in English of course but the thought of citing my sources and doing the research seemed like a real pain in the arse. He said it could be a paragraph if I wanted, but I wanted it to be long, at least six pages! The article was about how illness in the formative years of directors influences their future career path. I had already started making notes the night after we spoke at the pub, as I knew of some examples. Recently I had been fantasizing about moving to Poznan and working in the film department with my friend. Then I realized the first step to this dream would be to write this article! He had been asking for it via email. Once I got home from the beach I raced to the Davis Library at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, a short drive from my home. I decided to find books on Coppola and Scorsese to start with. Coppola suffered from pneumonia as a boy and Scorsese asthma. I found a bio of Coppola written in the last ten years. Perfect. But the real find was something I had been waiting years for. It was a biography of Martin Scorsese. Finally. I think it was the Oscar win that tipped the scales. This book was written in 2008. It was brand spanking new. I felt honored to check it out and salivated as the elevator took me up seven flights to my destiny.

There is not enough time to do all the things I want to do. This is the dilemma of every working American isn't it? Why can't we be more laidback like other countries? We deserve to drink beer on our lunch breaks and have siestas! Don't we? Until those completely improbable changes get made, we must soldier on. I'm a young man, they tell me, and I have plenty of time. Plenty of time. Compared to what?

I'm happy!

2008-04-06T21:15:00.002-05:00

There was an article about me in the New York Times today. !!!!. Go to this link to read it. It's about my documentary, "Brushes With Life" and also about the sorry state of mental health care in my home stomping grounds, North Carolina.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/06/opinion/06smith.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=lee+smith&st=nyt&oref=slogin

New Place to Live

2008-03-30T15:22:00.003-05:00

I'm looking at an apartment in about forty minutes. It's in a small town in between where I live now and where I work. I don't necessarily want to leave my town but it just makes sense as my commute is so darn long now. The town does not have a lot going for it, but it has more than Sanford, which is where I work.

I'm firmly entrenched in the editing process of my new doc. It's good but I'm very insecure about it. I'm very insecure these days. I always feel better about myself when I'm dating someone. And that's not happening now. The doc has no interviews yet. I feel like I don't know who to interview. The house is abandoned and the owner lives in Florida and won't speak to me. I'm going to offer him some money to be interviewed. It's not that he's hostile to me, he just keeps promising to call me but he never does. I want him to know I'm serious.

I'm starting my own film production company. I'm in the process of getting the name changed because they didn't give me my first choice, even though it was available. Just did my taxes today. Did 'em online. Pretty simple.

Gotta go.

Counting Down the Minutes like seconds

2008-03-23T14:54:00.002-05:00

The drip of time
like leaky faucet awakening you
in the late night
and holding you hostage through the early morning
but
when quicksilver fast
as if Father Time wore Adidas
the seconds skip
joyfully across the meadow to you
and a good time is had by all

Work

2008-03-20T20:27:00.002-05:00

My job is getting busy but that's not what I really want to talk about. There's a girl I like. I'm not ambivalent about her, I know I like her. I'm committed to liking her. Tonight I called her for the first time. I called her twice. Both times I got an automated voicemail message telling me she was not available. I emailed and have not heard back. She told me to call on Thursday. I made an effort.

The feeling I feel the most these days is "tired." I don't know if anyone reads this blog anymore as I post infrequently and don't get comments anymore. My documentary is my source of "fun" and now as I am working hard editing the corporate video at work, I am less enthused about editing when I come home at the end of the day. I also need to decide what do I want to say with the current scene I am editing. This graphic I'm editing is complicated and I need to plan a few steps ahead so I know what I want the finished product to look like.

The job is good. Good money, good job satisfaction. Frankly, I'm thankful to have a job. The fact that it pays so fuckin' well and is in my field is the icing on the cake. Today I stood on top of the roof of my building with the wind ripping into my jacket and I filmed a company 18-wheeler barrel down the road and turn into our company parking lot. The key was to zoom in on our logo on the truck as it drove past. I nailed it. God I'm good.

Revisiting my roots

2008-03-15T08:50:00.003-05:00

Last night I went back to the grocery store where I used to work. I hadn't been back for a few weeks. Some people I hadn't seen in months. It was hard to reconnect. I felt like an outsider. Here I was, dressed in fancy dress shirt and slacks and they were wearing t-shirts and jeans, working hard, getting dirty. I used to do that. I found myself being the consummate customer, the kind I used to hate. "How are these oranges today?" I asked, hoping to get a good deal. "When did the broccoli come in?" One of my favorite co-workers and I tried to have a conversation but it was stilted and just not as it used to be. At one point he said "I don't know what else to say to you right now." There were a couple people who I connected with even better now that I was middle class. Overall, shopping there was a surreal experience. They say you can't go home again. I feel like I changed since I started working this new job. Nothing you can do about that. Loss is unavoidable. Change is the only constant. People grow, drift apart. I tried to make it like old times when I spoke to my co-workers, but there's no sense trying to resurrect dead connections. I have a new life now.

Sarah

2008-03-09T19:53:00.003-05:00

She lays me to bed
with a tender embrace
With a kiss on my lips
it is her love I taste
I swallow when she is close
She passes past my heart
Everything is calm
When she has reached me I start
to unwind and bend
to relax and then
My outlook improves
My irritability is subdued
I sleep undisturbed
Those around me are unperturbed
Sarah, Sarah
you are my doctor's daughter
I take you on my tongue
with a glass of water

Pain

2008-03-09T18:36:00.003-05:00

Cutting is something I never understood. I even felt superior to people who cut themselves. I thought you had to be seriously messed up to do that to yourself over and over again. But I have my own habit that I didn't realize until a few minutes ago. When I get overwhelmed, I trim my thumbnails so that they are hanging off by an edge. Then I pull the nail off the edge until it rips off the skin. The trick is to do it so it doesn't bleed, but often it does. And it is a little painful, but that is why I do it. That is why people cut. The pain is a release. I don't pass judgment on cutters now, since I see that I have a similar habit. It does provide a release too. I was stressing over the health insurance application for my new job and I had to do something to ease the stress. I always disinfect the wound afterwards with rubbing alcohol. I really wipe it in their good to feel the sting. That's how I know it's working. Cutting is more extreme than what I do - I don't do this very often. There is something about pain that is a release.

Not Enough Time

2008-03-03T19:32:00.004-05:00

I only have three hours every night when I come home from work. Three hours to check both my email accounts, take a walk, eat dinner, pick out my clothes for tomorrow, shower and go to bed. The one thing I really want to make time for every day is to work on my documentary. But there isn't much time. I get only the bulk of two precious days a week to work on my films, and it's not enough to suit me.

Just now I feel the minutes slipping away as I write this. Not that this is a waste of time mind you. It's important. I know my routine and my routine is telling me in 24 minutes I have to eat dinner. Then by 8:45 I have to have showered, by which I can then edit in my robe while drying until 9:15. I must be in bed by 9:30, to get enough sleep to make it possible to get up at 6:30am.

For the past several days I've been getting up at 5am. It sucks because I lose a whole hour and a half of sleep that could have been so good. So maybe I should go to bed a little later? Last week I went to bed about 8:15. The next morning was the first time that I woke up an hour and a half early. Since then, it's happened a few more times.

Maybe I could afford to go to bed a little later tonight. I may not accomplish much more on my doc, but the act of working on it nurtures me. It's completion is something I'm working toward. It'll be like finishing a novel. Sometimes I worry that it will never be finished. Or that it will suck. But I know I won't let either of those things happen. There will be enough time to prevent that.

Post-Illness

2008-02-23T11:13:00.002-05:00

I have pretty much recovered from my flu, except for strong stomach pains. Mom thinks its the H. Pylori bug; named after a scientist who discovered it twenty years ago. It causes a parasite to burrow into your stomach lining, possibly causing an ulcer. That's kind of scary. I read into some treatment for it, and they say you need to take twenty pills a day for two weeks to overcome it. Antibiotics and what not. The GI track has been pretty, shall I say, derailed over the past week. I get the impression that if I had some relief there, all would be better.

My boss was a little peeved, but not too much so. My co-worker told me she has a need for everyone to like her. All the while she was reprimanding me for missing four days of work she mentioned that she knew I was the right person for the job, otherwise she wouldn't have hired me. That felt good. Friday was kind of a disaster at work though. My coworker was out of town and she left the wrong hotel number to get in touch with her. I had a deadline and tried to transfer some necessary files from her computer to mine, but it wasn't working - nobody could figure it out.

Meanwhile I'd made these promises to my boss because I wanted her faith in me to be restored. I couldn't deliver on hardly any of the things I promised that day. She wanted me to burn DVDs of two corporate videos. I set up the burner to do this and it jammed. Then it started to emit a high-pitched squeal that wouldn't stop. A nice co-worker told me to call IS. I did and ten squealing minutes later they show up. IS guys always walk like gangsters when they come to the scene. They're the "muscle" that get called in to finish a job. The were able to shut it off. Said it was a breaker. It happened earlier in the week. Then I didn't feel so bad.

Five o' clock rolls around and my boss comes in and asks what I have for her. I tell her like it is - the burner blew up and I wasn't able to burn any of the DVDs. She said it was okay because the videos needed to be changed anyway.
Two days off is not enough!

Illness

2008-02-21T13:52:00.002-05:00

Since I last wrote I developed a strong stomach flu. I've missed all four days of work this week. I called in everyday and let my boss know. She never contacted me until this morning. I later found out from a co-worker that she was freaking out because of a project I had been working was due tomorrow and I would be the only one around who could finish it. I left my boss a voicemail assuring her that I would be there tomorrow morning. She called me earlier and said that I needed to call her right away. I left her two voicemails with no reply. My last communication was a message saying that I would in fact be there tomorrow morning, without a doubt. I don't know if she's pissed. She should be glad I'm doing better. I feel like I am now held hostage by the phone, waiting for her to call. It's so nerve-racking. Would she still want to talk to me, even though I spoke plainly on her voice mail? Is she really upset? My first fear when I got her message from this morning was that I would be fired. In a way it would be liberating, but it would also be a big disappointment. The money is quite good.

Tonight is the big screening of my documentary at a local church. I'm not quite 100% percent healthy but I of course will be there. I picked out a suit at the Men's Wearhouse months ago. I will wear it publicly for the first time tonight. I feel like I can't be "too well" in case my boss calls. If I am in too good spirits she might question why I didn't come to work today. But once this call business is put aside, I will start to get excited again.

I got a "wink" from someone today on Match.com. She looks fairly cute but she lives too far away. I also had a date last weekend. It's amazing how much looks factor into the equation of attraction. She is small and very thin. She has pretty eyes but my type is more the voluptuous woman. The reporter who interviewed me for the local film beat was much more my type. Also, we shared candid stories about mental illness in our lives. She opened up to me more to than I did to her! She mentioned "the guy she was dating" but I don't think that's going to stop me. If the article turns out well I was planning on giving her a call and inviting her to coffee.

All this week I'm plagued by issues of my own competence. Am I really fit to live independently when even the smallest task seems overwhelming? I do think I've caught a bit of depression along with this virus. Living with my parents (although it's mostly my mother I see all the time) is such soul-sucking humiliation-fest. Getting my own place would improve my self esteem. But its almost if I need to have the self-esteem before I can move out. Catch-22 anyone?

This boss isn't calling so I think I'll go for a walk now. I'm not trying to manipulate her. Well, not a lot. It would nice if her purpose were to make sure I was feeling okay, which she never did all week. I didn't hear from her all week, offering any condolences or making sure I was okay. But once her ass is on fire, that's when the phone starts ringing.

Peace be with you.

I Don't Know How to Have Fun

2008-02-17T14:29:00.002-05:00

I think I'm allergic to honey roasted peanuts. Two weeks ago I had several handfuls at a movie shoot and got violently ill. I had to check into a hotel room for the night as I was two hours away from home. Just yesterday I had about two handfuls of the cursed nuts again. In an hour's span I could feel the cramps tightening my stomach. I ate dinner as we had guests over and I didn't want to be rude. I ended up throwing the whole dinner. By bedtime I was shaking and shivering. I went to bed and woke up feeling just as lousy as last night. That's where I am now.

But the title of this post comes from something else. I'm so used to working - proving myself with film related projects. When I'm confronted with free time, I don't know what to do with myself. It's been so long since I had what I would call "fun." Editing a horror movie, which I have been working on, can be fun, but it's also hard work! I imagine fun to be some kind of game. Running around with friends and laughing, etc. The key factor being other people. All my hobbies take me away from people. I'm a solitary man. I still live with my parents and I see them the most, apart from my coworkers. When I used to work at the grocery store I complained to the folks that all my coworkers do is get drunk on weekends. To this day, that's not something I miss. But I do miss their company. None of them call me to check in. Since I work banker's hours now, our schedules conflict. Many of them work on weekends.

Here's what I'm torn with right now. A friend of mine who is a film professor in Poland is putting some heat on me to write an essay I've been planning for six months. The essay is for a film journal about directors who were severely ill as children. I've started to write it, but then I noticed all the other articles have citations! I hate citing work. I would rather the reader just took my word for it. But there's no way around it. I have to cite my work. I don't plan on going to the library - nosiree. I wonder if the internet would be good enough. I'll ask my friend. I first met him in Poland nine years ago. He knew my parents when all three used to teach at the same university. I had never met him and my parents hadn't seen him in 25 years. After a lecture that my group was invited to, he came up to me and introduced himself. To this day I'm not sure how he knew who I was. He invited me to dinner. He speaks very good English. Which is good because my Polish is quite bad. I didn't see him for eight years until last summer when my family went back to Poland. This time me, my father and the professor got together. They hadn't seen each other in 30 years. The professor was a gracious host and asked me to write an article for university journal. I was honored but haven't got around to it yet. It's kind of daunting actually. I hate to cite stuff.

Take it easy, friends,
pjbrubak

Read This

2008-02-06T19:21:00.000-05:00

"I can't tell you how impressed I am with Philip's creativity. He is a poet, a prose writer, a filmmaker and a photographer and each example of his work I got to read or see was superb."
- reporter for the Chapel Hill News, on me.

Go this link. Not only will you learn my real name, but you'll see what I can do.

http://www.chapelhillnews.com/weekend/story/12582.html

Last Week

2008-02-04T19:55:00.000-05:00

Last week was so stressful it culminated in a four part vomiting session on Saturday night. It was either that or food poisoning. I was two hours from home in a faux Old West town shooting second unit on a low-budget zombie flick. When it was over I had a pounding headache - worst ever. That was followed by the ol' lean out the car pukefest that used to happen to me when I was a drinker. But only one beer and six handfuls o' honey roasted peanuts later, I was laid out. My nose started bleeding after all the regurgitatin' and I had to get some paper towels from the saloon to stop the flow. I walked into a Hampton Inn lobby (having thrown up my evening meds and gone twelve hours without the necessary mood damperin' mind you) and asked for a room. The clerk was polite but professional. She asked me how many were in my party. I showed her my ID. "Oh, like the jazz musician?" she asked. "Sort of," I replied. She gave me my key and I thanked her.

On the way to the elevator I passed a mirror in the hall. I had dried blood caked all over the left side of my face.

My Complicated Relationship with Women

2008-01-30T18:47:00.000-05:00

That last post was pretty, ah provocative, I'll just say. I don't know where it came from but since I have some female readers I thought I might try and salvage whatever interest they may have had in this blog.

I live with my mother and father. I have lived with them for almost four years, since graduating college. It was meant to be temporary, until I have recovered fully from my last manic episode and found a steady job with a livable wage. For the past several months I have been plotting a move from my job - so I couldn't move anywhere. Now that I have a new job, I just have to wait til April before I am officially hired. At that point I will move closer to the job. As of now I have a 45 minute commute to work everyday.

I see my mother much more than I see my father and she scares me. She didn't always scare me. It's just when we moved to NC and she developed fibromyalgia that she became very angry often. She was also angry before this, but since she is now in constant pain and is Polish, she becomes enraged and intimidating often. She doesn't seem to know this. She feels she is a sweet lamb who has a big heart and incapable of hurting other people.

I am scared of girls. Is this because I am scared of my mother? I do know that when I hurt my mother's feelings I am a whole new person. When I know that she is hurt by something I have done - I am, for lack a better term, a man and not a mama's boy. I am more aggressive, more confident in my intelligence. I can't fully explain the difference. I look at my mother's face and I see nothing but wrinkles. My brain works like the best of them, I am no longer withdrawn or fearful. But Mom is a wreck because she doesn't know how to relate to me. The vulnerable, withdrawn boy that she spent her life raising is no longer there. But me and Dad get along famously. It's almost as if I have to make a choice who to take after: Mom or Dad.

A friend of mine once said the definition of a Mama's Boy is someone who can't stand having a woman angry at him. I do try to please every woman in my life. Every fucking one. Where does that leave me? I can't get into a relationship with a woman. I feel like I'm on a stage the whole time, performing. I have been addicted to pornography for many years. I'd say a full on addiction for 15 years. As soon as I discovered it when I was 13. Some people cut, some people drink, I do porn. I tell myself it's not as bad as those two because its harmless to the body. Not really is it? And it's even more harmful to the psyche. So fucking harmful. I've never had a meaningful relationship with a girlfriend. I'm a good looking guy who really seems like a ladies man, but no, I am fucked up.

I don't how to end this post. I have looked into getting into a support group, but there isn't one around here, if there is they aren't represented on the web. The thought of jacking off to porn always seems so great: YEAH just what I needed. Today, all I had to do was read the word 'virgin' in a sentence and I thought "Time to jack off". With a few clicks I was at a porn site and had my dick in my hands. My psychologist is a woman and she is mortified at all this. But she can't change me. I will say that I have been feeling more powerless about this addiction in the past year. And it just doesn't make me feel good anymore. But I still do it - thinking each time that "this time will be different, it will make me happy again like it used to."

Every time it makes me feel like shit. But that's the hole I've dug for myself. A perpetual cycle of feeling like shit. Sorry Mom, but going to the gym doesn't do it for me. In a fit of honesty I told both parents that I looked at porn quite a bit. She recommends I do yoga and that helps, but nothing smacks you down like jacking off to porn. It's for masochists, like any addiction.

If you've read this far, I applaud you.

January Showers

2008-01-28T18:43:00.000-05:00

January showers

A fickle thistle leaf
sustains a persistent rain
dropping in the same spot
on its edge

A man drives a van
slowly through the downpour
his exhaust trailing behind

The van idles by a grassy ditch
and the side door slides open

Inside there is a woman
her mouth bound with duct tape
she is naked and dead

The man dumps her body in the grassy ditch
and drives away.

The thistle leaf bends
under the weight of the last drop
with a splash
and a recoil
and a murmur
and silence

I Need Love

2008-01-26T19:18:00.000-05:00

I have begun to long for you
I who have no greed
I have begun to ask for you
I who have no need
- Leonard Cohen

Cute waitress. VERY cute waitress. Eye shadow, blonde highlights. NIIICE body. Pretty face. Sweet, nice girl. But cool. She was in training and so she shadowed our actual waitress. I was smitten.
And I did nothing. We talked a little. I made a couple attempts to flirt. And then we left. But I wanted her. I didn't do anything. Was there anything I could have done? Gotten her number? It would have been forced. But if you want something everbody says you should go for it. I could always go back there - I guess, but do I really want it bad enough? I could talk the talk maybe, but I can't walk the walk. I live with my parents. I hang out with my parents. Tonight, I left the restaurant on a Saturday night and came home to my parents MY. PARENTS.
It's temporary.
Yeah I know. But it still hurts! I can't get laid. Because I can't bring girls home with me. Friend of mine said I could still pick up girls and say, "Let's go back to your place." I'm not really the one night stand kinda guy, no matter how much I may want that. I've never had a one night stand. Not to say I never will. When I get my own place there will be that option. I'm a good looking guy, but there's something about living with your mother than makes you off-limits for other girls. Some kind of vibe we send out. Am I wrong?
I'm hurting because I'm so lonely. Porn is a sorry replacement for a real woman. I can't seem to meet the girls I really like. I get shy around them and end up with their friend who doesn't intimidate me. But I don't really like those extroverted girls. My heart is with their mysterious, more introverted friend. Sex sex sex. I need to get laid. Not so much to release pent-up fluids but just to feel like a human being. I need love.

Email to a friend

2008-01-25T19:27:00.000-05:00

Yes, the good news is the job is getting better. Today was great actually. Early on, I went to shoot some footage for one of the instructional videos we're working on. It was fun. Nice break from editing all day. Then my boss asked me to make a list of all the new gear we will need. I told her I'll talk to my co-worker about it and email her the list. She said to just go ahead and make a purchase order (!) That is unlike her. So me and my co-worker had a blast coming up with all this great gear we wanted. And sort of needed. But mostly wanted. We also talked about the respective movies we were working on. She said she would email the directions to make your own steadycam. That's a device that makes camera movement incredibly smooth, even if the operator is running up some stairs. The real deal is multi-thousand dollar, but she knows a way to make an effective one really cheaply. Plus, the other day she said I could bring in a tape of some of my own footage and burn it to a DVD at work! She said this is a good idea because if you use your own videocamera to capture footage you run the risk of damaging it after multiple uses. She had a video deck and this was the first time I really indulged myself at work. So far I have really bent over backwards to be a hard worker bee and follow all the rules as if some Nazi were going to enforce them at any moment. I was more relaxed, in other words. Now I have a DVD copy of some very valuable footage. I also got some real work done, mind you :) But the other fun thing was it was so fuckin' hot in the building that I took off my sweater. I didn't plan on this kind of arrangement so all I had underneath was a tight black T-shirt. Man, were girls checkin' me out. The one that I like was giving me some attention - and I was even thinking of pursuing her, even though we work in the same department. What do you think?
To cap it all off, I was interviewed over the phone by my hometown newspaper about my latest documentary, which will be shown publicly in February. I always like talking to the press, I've done it quite a bit, but my favorite is Q&As after a screening.
Today was a good day but I got a lot of shit to do this weekend
busy busy busy

Rejected

2008-01-23T20:29:00.000-05:00

She did write me back. She said she had been thinking about what to say for two days. I believe her. Her reply was very sweet. Although she said outright that she doesn't think of me romantically, she went on to say I was amazing and I shouldn't be a stranger to my old workplace. It was a great reply and I responded telling her that I respected her decision and still wanted to be friends. Why, all day I was walking around on a cloud: "She thinks I'm amazing!"

But I don't want things to get weird between us. I don't see her very often but I will soon as our circle of friends intersect. I am a little stressed out about our next meeting. I don't want to come across as aloof or holding a grudge. Should I give her a hug when I see her? I suppose I can decide all that when the time comes.
She's a cool girl...I'd like her to stay my friend.

As for the smiley girl, I'm already looking elsewhere. Is there etiquette for Match.com? There's so many opportunities for dating while you're already dating. Just a few clicks and you can see a picture of someone more attractive than who you're going out with at the moment. That's why I didn't kiss on my last date; I wasn't 100% sure. I emailed a VERY cute girl tonight and if I get a date - bye bye smiley girl.

Why do I think these things?

2008-01-22T18:38:00.000-05:00

I look at the pictures of the girl who wants to date me and all I think about is how hideously ugly she is. I see only the worst in her: Big head, poor posture, stocky. Why can't I accept the offering of a girl who likes me. Why do I always see fault in them? Meanwhile I pursue unattainable girls who always reject me. If I had them, like I have this girl in question, would they look ugly too?
Woody Allen beat me to the punch when he used Groucho Marx's line to define his neurosis: "I would never join a club that would have me for a member." The last girl I dated became horribly unattractive once our relationship started to get serious. I found this new girl on Match.com and thought she was attractive...but now that huge smile she has...she looks so sincerely happy...it makes me sick.

The Difficulty of Connecting with Objects of Affection

2008-01-19T22:58:00.000-05:00

Those of you who have read my blog since I started it two and a half years ago know I am always analyzing myself. With this blog I lay out all of my self-hatred and anxiety. This post will be no different. I am tortured. It's tough to know just how much pain the average person goes through. I assume it's less than mine.
Last night I went out with friends to celebrate my new job. All these friends were people I worked with for years at my last job. One of them is a girl that I've always liked. In fact, I had a crush on her from the moment I saw her. Since I left she's been very friendly to me. There were hints that she really did care for me. And I also got the impression that I might have a shot with her. So what do I do? I sent her an email. I was very direct. Maybe too direct. Because I haven't heard back from her. It hasn't even been a day, but in the email I told her I had a crush on her but didn't realize it until I quit the job and didn't see her anymore. I told her to write back and tell me how she feels, no matter what that is. It would be very easy for her as she wouldn't have to even talk to me.
I've been checking my email nervously all day. No answer yet.
I was planning on beating myself up with this post, but I've done that too much already. Rather than dwell on my perceived shortcomings, I'll just tell it from my perspective.
Gotta go. Tired.

My New Job (the cartoon)

2008-01-17T18:43:00.001-05:00

2008-01-12T18:00:00.000-05:00

I'm depressed. I wrote a song about it wanna hear it here it goes:

Slidin' down
slidin' down
Headed for the cold cold ground
No one around
no one around
My body will never be found
Time to take more meds!
They are the solution to everything!
We've got meds for up
meds for down!
Meds to keep you above the cold cold ground
Never mind you'll be miserable
At least you won't be dead or in prison!
So keep poppin' those Seroquels
Zyprexas
Lamictals and
Lithium Carbonates
A numb bum is better than a crumb dumb-dumb
Watch your life pass before your eyes
One Twinkie goes down...
Watch your potential girlfriends walk away
Two Twinkies go down
Thank god for the TV, right?
The unconditional Cathode Ray love mother
Instant no-mess friends!
Every week!
Your waistline expands
The mail piles up
You forget what it means to be happy
Prolong the inevitable with
your psychotropics
If you confronted a traumatic childhood memory
Would there be some relief?
With doctor's dope, no worries!
That is if you like to sleep and eat more than re-integrating into society
Now some folks out there will say that depression is more crippling than being medicated
To them I say, "Whatever works for you."
If my hypomania is another man's happy
I deserve every minute of it
Nothing wrong with it
These pills that I ingest
They're the only thing that matters in my life
Pretty fucked up, huh?
I'm spiralling down.
My emotions are in a cage
shaking the bars
rattling
I stick mood stabilizers in between the bars
and the shiftless animal inside
snatches them out of desperation
looking for some comfort
He can't stop eating them

Oh, How Times Have Changed

2008-01-09T20:20:00.000-05:00

I had to pay full-fucking-price for my meds today b/c my health insurance lapsed. Duh, I thought. Why didn't I see this coming? Because I thought the HR person at my old job would take care of me. She didn't. Now I've got to confront her and ask her to pay the cost of the meds. I don't like confrontations. Mom is putting the heat on me saying that I "should have taken care of myself." When they are around, I let things go. It's only when I know that I HAVE to take care of myself that I really step up to the plate.
I feel bad you guys. All these big life issues are coming at me. 12 hour work days. Dealing with Cobra (or lack thereof), confrontation, forming a business entity for my film production company, taking on another free lance editing gig, trying to make my own documentary on the side (that's really tricky.)
I'm gonna take a warm shower and retreat to Pillowland.

pj

Life is Good

2008-01-06T15:03:00.000-05:00

Bipolars can be happy too. Is it hypomania? Maybe. But it can also be the result of making good life choices. I still get self-critical thoughts. I had them all day today, but today has been a great day. What works for me is tell myself, "I forgive you." whenever I try to beat myself up over something I said or did. It works. I'm also proud of myself for getting this new job, where I am treated well. Treated like an intelligent person who deserves a good salary without having to work in unhealthy conditions. Back at the grocery store I would come in at 2pm and the backroom would be completely covered in cardboard boxes. You couldn't even walk anywhere. And my boss would always storm around angrily, occasionally lashing out at her underlings. With this new job, I can take it easy. What matters are my skills, not how fast I work.
Today I went to a big Asian market in another town with a friend from the grocery store and his girlfriend. We ate some delicious steamed buns stuffed with pork and quail egg or date and red bean paste. After that, we walked around the store, buying stuff. It was a very casual day. Spontaneously we decided to go to the Apple store, and I bought some software that I had wanted for awhile. We had a great time walking around the mall. It felt good to be around an attractive woman. I got a lot of confidence from that. It showed when I went back to my old job to visit. Tonight I'm seeing a movie with a friend who has a boyfriend. Then another female friend offered to come to Sanford and show me around. I'm the fuckin' man! If it is hypomania, all this confidence is great. I need to figure out a way to keep the confidence when I approach women. I get so unconfident b/c I haven't had a girlfriend for so long and I can't approach girls at parties. The girl I've been interested in on Match.com is out of the country but I told her to email me when she comes back. I'm holding out on dating other girls until she gets back.
Life is good.

The New Job

2007-12-31T18:42:00.000-05:00

I get sick of explaining how things went to various people, so I'll give you The Summary:

- Met nice co-worker who once accidentally killed a horse when it jumped in front of her moving car. She was going 55. She also told me there were cameras in the water sprinklers watching our every move.
- Mostly women at this place. The most feared one came up to me and introduced herself, wishing me good luck. Everyone else was shocked. She never does that, I kept hearing.
- I got a phat new PowerMac to do all my work on.
- I've got my own extension with voicemail.
- My coworker is very nice and a successful independent filmmaker in her own right.
- Atmosphere is very laidback.
- The quickest way to get from one end of the building is to go through the bathroom, which everyone does. It's right in the middle of the floorplan. It's like a game of "Clue", only instead of candlesticks and revolvers our weapons are ID badges and a sense of ennui.
- There are plenty of restaurants in the area and lunch breaks are an hour long...so I will enjoy that part of the day.
- There doesn't seem to be anyone as intimidating as my last boss.

That's my first day. Tonight is New Year's Eve. Woo-hoo!

Full of Stollen

2007-12-27T21:29:00.000-05:00

The holidays have come and gone. I've gorged myself on desserts, even while telling myself to cut down on the sweets. My last few days working at the grocery store were besieged with free confections, including half of an chocolate espresso cheesecake given to me as a going-away present. As a suga-holic, I decided to indulge for the holidays and then seriously cut down. I assume my new workplace has a cafeteria...no doubt stocked with doughnuts, turnovers and other assorted pastries. I plan on working a fitness regimen with my new lifestyle. Gotta get to the gym if I'm not running around for eight hours a day lifting 40 lb. boxes.
I am elated about quitting my job, which I did on Monday. I'm so glad I don't have to go back there and deal with annoying people and tasks. The last day was fairly unemotional until it came time to leave. It was me and the two co-workers I liked the most. The female friend esconced us into a huddle where she weeped a little. I was pretty stoic although I knew I would miss them both, but especially her. I had always had a crush on her and even visited her in the mountains when she took a sabbatical from the job. Nothing ever became of it because I always thought she didn't like me. Her tears were evidence to the contrary.
As I said goodbye I was accosted with the cheesecake and some photo CDs of me and other store workers at various parties over the years. I was famous for doing karaoke at these parties, and now I had the evidence. I bid everyone farewell and walked to the employee parking lot, all the while wimpering. Then when I finally got to the safety of the car I started sobbing uncontrollably. That night I looked at the photos and was generally shaken during our traditional Christmas Eve dinner. I've since regained my composure, but that day was hard.
My new job starts this Monday, Dec. 31.

20 years older?

2007-12-21T22:59:00.001-05:00

There's a woman who volunteers at the store where I work. She's from Brazil, but has lived in Long Island for many years. As soon as I saw her, I thought she was beautiful. She has an electric smile. I liked her instantly and wanted her to like me. Gradually, seeing each other for only three hours once a week, we became friends.
She's 47. She is short and so charming and cool. Her English is fine. She has a six year old son. During the course of our friendship, she and her husband had a divorce. I invited her to the screening of my documentary and she came. The next day she gave me a big hug when she showed up to volunteer. We became closer. In passing, I mentioned one day that I wanted to learn Italian. She told me she actually just signed up for an Italian class to be held at her house. I attended three of these classes and her sense of humor really came through. We joke around all the time and make each other smile. Since she found out that I'm leaving, she has been seeking my company more often. Today was her last shift at work. Today was also my last Friday. She brought me some date truffles and homemade cookies. She told me to hide it from my co-workers because it was only for me. When she was leaving I gave her a hug. Sometimes when you open your arms to hug someone they rush into your embrace. She didn't. She made me sweat a little. She slowly walked towards and I was wondering if I was going to get denied. But she did come through.
When I went to my car I checked my voicemail, and I got a message from her. She asked if I wanted to go to a bonfire to celebrate the solstice. She said if I didn't call in fifteen minutes she would go by herself or just stay home. I got the message too late. But I called anyway. She mentioned that she was kind of tired so we mutually decided we wouldn't go. In a way to ask what I was doing tonight, she said, "You're probably going to work on your movie tonight..." I said I probably would. This is the dating game. It's a dance. You can't rush into anything, even if your heart leaps in your chest, telling you to go home with someone. She is beautiful. She is old enough to be my mother. My mother would hate this.

Blind Date

2007-12-15T22:28:00.000-05:00

Today I met with a girl I met on Match.com. She didn't post her picture. I didn't ask for it, because she said she was looking for a friend and not really a boyfriend. But if it went in that direction she said, she would be open to that. She also "winked" at me right after I changed my profile from an idealized best foot forward approach to a banally honest litany of my inactivity. Before I said I would take you dancing and educate you to classic films. That's what the idealized pjbrubak would do. The real pjbrubak doesn't go out much and prefers to spend most of his free time on the computer. That seemed to attract this girl. Honesty.
I went to the coffee shop to meet her on a very cold, wet, windy day. She hadn't arrived yet. I ordered a black tea at the bar and waited. The wait staff were all twenty-something hipsters. I kept looking around for a red-haired girl with glasses; the description she emailed me. Her Match.com account ended that day.
Then I saw the back of a red-haired girl's head outside. She would wait outside in this weather? Instead of waiting in the warm lobby?
I walked out to her. I was strangely not nervous.
"Holly?"
She turned around.
I'll be honest with you.
I thought she was hideous.
One eye was closed, the other kept rolling around. She had a thick hearing aid in her left ear. Her head, was, well, how I can eye be true to my first impression without coming across as a jerk...she had huge ears, a warped jaw...she was not classically beautiful. Maybe in a Cubist sense.
We sat down at a booth and I thought I could hear our porcelain-toothed waiter snickering as he came to greet us. I felt the eyes of the female servers and could hear them thinking, "He is so NICE to go out with her."
The two of us talked and she turned her left ear to my face. At first I thought she was nervous, but then she revealed that she was half-deaf. She's also half-blind. She received a full scholarship from a blind organization to pay for grad school. She's studying Library Science. The more we talked, I realized she was a pure person. No bullshit. She said some wise things, like how impossible it is to get to know somebody on a first date. She also said she felt Match.com puts pressure on people to couple fast. I was touched at her sincerity. I actually grew kind of fond of her.
She moves to Greensboro in January. It was sort of an unspoken understanding between us that this relationship wasn't going any further. I shook her hand and said "It was nice to meet you. Good luck with school."
We parted, and I even emailed her saying that I enjoyed our "coffee date."
I wondered if maybe my affection for her was pity. Partly, I think it was. There are so many kinds of love.
I'm still looking...

The Denouement

2007-12-08T23:51:00.000-05:00

I got the job.

I was, and am, thrilled.

All day Thursday I was biting my nails, checking my email and voicemail constantly while I was at work. I was sure I had blown the interview.

But then Friday morning I checked my voicemail. The HR woman who interviewed left a very brief message: Please give me a call.

I called and left a message. Then I checked my email. As I opened the message subject-headed "Philip job offer" my phone rang. It was the sweetest phone ring I've ever heard.

We talked. In my application I asked for $40,000 a year salary. They gave me 45.

My start date is December 31. Next week I have a drug test.

Today I broke the news to everyone at the grocery store. My boss was immediately upbeat and congratulatory. Ending with a curt, "We're all gonna miss ya!" It was only after she had time to think about it that it really set in. She talked about how shaken she was. Normally she races around the department like a madwoman, but she became very slow, with a dazed expression on her face. I've worked with her for seven years. I'm the third person to leave in three weeks. She'll miss me over there. I told several people. I've gotta say, I was disappointed with the reaction I got from almost everybody. Nobody expressed any sadness except for one. Hardly any reaction whatsoever, other than "Good for you."

I'm glad to be getting out of that place.

I feel like I should say thank you. Not to anyone in particular, just in general. Thank you.

Email to a friend part 2

2007-12-05T21:05:00.000-05:00

I had a big job interview today, and Mom was explaining how when I feel more confident and self-worthy, I will attract more well-adjusted women. So that's the other news, the big job interview. It was a big deal. I think I got it, but I don't know yet. I was the very last candidate they interviewed, and if hired, they want me to start in two weeks. This means I will find a different place to live, preferably in Pittsboro, which is inbetween the job and where I live now. In my resume I asked for $40,000 a year and they said I could have it !!!!! That was a crap shoot. I was thinking $30,000 then thought, why not ask for more? They can always say no. This would be about 4 times my current salary.
I got lost on the way down to the place. I was crestfallen. The interview was at 3:30 and I was lost and it was 3:35. I tried to call them on my cellphone, but I couldn't get reception. I pulled over at a gas station to make a call. But it was long distance and they wouldn't let me. The clerk was certain that she could tell me how to get to the place as she drove past it every day. She scribbled some notes on the back of a receipt. I got two dollars in quarters and ran outside to the phone box. I called my interviewer and she was cool. She said the interview would start when I got there. I was relieved and raced to my car. The landmark to look for was a North Carolina Pottery Shop. That was where I needed to make the right turn off the highway. I was listening to NPR and they were talking about Hannukah. I was zoning out, which I sometimes do when I drive (bad habit). I stopped looking and there was a boys voice singing, "Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, I made it out of-" CLAY. The sign jumped out at me as I was listening. It said Clay and Pottery. I couldn't help but chuckle at the synchronicity. I always look for stuff like that and always find something.
The interview was good. I asked a lot of questions, didn't try to seem like a pushover. My interviewers were both women and I know how to charm. I had a good feeling about it and my interviewer said, as I was leaving, "We'll let you know about your start date." I was kind of shocked. I said, ok. She said, "Are you still interested in the job?" I said, "Yes, I'm very interested!"
I was the very last person to be interviewed. She said they were going to decide today. They also said they would check my references. My interview went til 5, so they probably won't really decide until tomorrow at the earliest. The other person I spoke with would be my co-worker/boss who is also an independent filmmaker! She is doing the same thing as me, making her films on the side and working here to pay the bills. I hope I get the job.

E-mail to a friend

2007-12-04T18:06:00.000-05:00

Whenever I don't make my meds I always get high; never depressed. The day after I'm up I love it. It's a great feeling. It's a little sad when I have to go back to taking meds again - but there is a way to keep up the good feelings. It involves modulating your thinking, but also taking risks and getting in the social fray. I don't know how long somebody else could last without his meds. For me, last time, it was about three days. After that I was hospitalized, although I went along willingly. At the party I went to last night we had a philosophy discussion all about "fate". Does it exist? If I believe our life is fated, how does it affect our decisions? Try as we might to defeat fate, does it ultimately win? Stuff like that. Yeah, I felt great about talking to the five girls. I was most interested in the last one I talked to, but she left abruptly. She had just opened up to me about how there was a lot of depression in her family. I was kind of taken aback but also felt privileged that she would trust me with this information. She disappeared and I took a little walk outside to clear my head. As I walked around the house I saw her crouching on the ground and I asked if she was okay. She said yes and kept walking. I left shortly thereafter and was at an impasse with a car that was pulling away. They flashed their lights and I motioned for them to go ahead. I couldn't see the driver. Then I heard a familiar voice say, "It was lovely!" I realized it was her. She drove away and that was it. I didn't get any phone numbers and my co-worker was disappointed. Fuck him.

Sad

2007-12-02T23:34:00.000-05:00

How can you help having a cold personality? I know guys (me included) who shut down their feelings. They look mad all the time. Sometimes I look mad, but I'm just hurt and scared. I'm not trying to sound emo.
There's a girl I used to know. We used to go to movies all the time and go to dinner. We hit it off instantly. We knew each other for two years. She became involved with a another guy. I never made a move, I was too scared of rejection. When she was off with the other guy, she was on with me. We saw "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" together. It was such a beautiful experience. At the end she said it made her want to be in love. With me? Now it seems obvious.
One night at dinner I brought up the idea that we might be a couple. She said, "We're finally talking about this." Things were said that night. She expressed concern that I wasn't a Christian. I don't remember what I said, just what she said. That night I drove her back to her dorm. I froze. I didn't look at her. I was so fucking passive. She said she knew we'd end up together. Then she kissed me on the cheek and left.
I didn't know how to make it happen. I thought we were just friends. Later on I made her dinner and we watched TV. We sat next to each other on the couch. Some commercial came on with some stupid jingle like "Go on, go on." She nudged me and said, "Go on..." I thought we were just friends and it didn't register and when it did the moment had passed and I just sat there and we had an awkward time watching TV.
She later married that other guy that she was dating. They were both devout Christians it worked out better than if she married and agnostic like me who didn't go to church.
I've shut down my emotions. I haven't had a relationship in a year and a half. And that wasn't even a real fucking relationship. I feel like I can't love because I'm too scared. Was I traumatized? Who wasn't?
My mom left the country when I was three for a few weeks. When she came back I was so mad at her. Maybe that's why I can't trust women? That's an easy way out.
There's a girl at work that I'm attracted to in much the same way as my old friend, who has since broken off all contact with me. This girl at work is also from the country, like you know who. She is beautiful. But I can't - I have a hard time asking girls out. I don't want to ask her out unless I know when would be a good time to do it and I busy all next week. I also think she's moving to Australia. I should fucking ask her out. I will. I make a resolve to ask her out.

I Couldn't Stay Away

2007-11-30T12:58:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I was so overwhelmed by life that I felt keeping the blog alive would be unneeded stress. Today I realize it's a good way to relieve stress!

I'm still stressed.

I shot some footage for my new documentary with a friend yesterday. We went into somebody's home (she let us in) but she was very old and didn't really understand who we were, even though we repeatedly identified ourselves. The groundskeeper next door told us who she was and that she was the one to talk to. He said we could just knock on her door and she'd talk to us.

Well she did, but she didn't like the questions I was asking. I asked her about the abandoned house and the letter I found from sixty years ago about the death of her nephew. She didn't seem to understand that we were filmmakers who wanted to tell the story of this family. Classic clash of privileged documentary filmmaker and rural colorful subjects. How to get her to trust me.

We kept talking for awhile, but she seemed very uncomfortable, it was almost painful to watch. We decided to leave right around the time she threatened to call "The Law." I gave her my business card, which she gave to the police after we left. I got a voicemail message on my cellphone from the the Deputy shortly thereafter. He wanted to know what we were doing. I called him back and everything was squared away.

The good thing that came out of this was I was able to finally speak to Hazel's son - a man I've been searching for for two years. The elderly lady had his number on speed dial. I emailed him a copy of the letter I found and he said he was going to come up from Florida and we could visit.

The Last Post

2007-11-29T16:32:00.000-05:00

I'm blogging to a very select few now. Only two people whose emails I cleared with this new private setup. What's the point of keeping on? I privatized my blog because I was up for a job with a major corporation and didn't want them reading the darned thing.
So now it's over. Let's end it, see?

-it's been real.

bye

I'm tired of writing

2007-11-14T22:04:00.000-05:00

For those who care, these are the good things that happened today:

I showed my producer my directors cut of the documentary. She agreed it was great and should be the final version. There will be only one version - my version. I was very happy that she liked it. This is what I wanted all along - not to compromise my artistic integrity. We also had a great talk and I grew to be much more comfortable with her.

I decided to go to a "Self Mastery" class with a friend who I don't know very well. I was tired and would much rather stay home and edit, but I decide I would go because this friend needed a ride. I show up at her house and she says she doesn't really want to go either. We end up in her house talking and playing guitars. She has a boyfriend. But it was fun and it was a good segue back into the dating scene. I joined Match.com. Puttin' myself out there!

The other good thing that happened today is today is my day off from work! A bad thing that happened yesterday however was the fact that my department got an abysmal customer service report and I was the one responsible. The report didn't name me, but I knew it was me. The last seven of these reports have all been 100%, now this one. I've already started looking for another job. I feel like my disinterest in the job is showing - like, even I can't hide it anymore.

Current job: bad. New job: good.

I'm planning on moving out of my parents house on Jan. 2nd. Haven't signed a lease yet, which is good considering I may need to get a new f***ing job!

My fear

2007-11-08T15:56:00.001-05:00

I'm afraid of disappointing women. Don't know why. My mom has always been the pivotal figure in my life. Maybe I'm a mama's boy. I find myself scared of my female boss. It's not that's she's overtly terrible. I'm just scared of her getting mad at me. I feel ashamed. Like I'm not doing things right if she's upset. And my producer! I'm re-editing some scenes in my movie (this is MY movie mind you) and I find myself getting scared that she won't like the changes! That I shouldn't change things because she or other women in the audience will not like it!
Is this a common problem among men? Is it like some sort of Mama's Boy Syndrome? Not being able to stand a woman being mad at you?

I'm Bipolar Tired

2007-11-08T00:11:00.000-05:00

Exhausted.

Who Do I Trust?

2007-11-06T23:21:00.000-05:00

You're the only person I can tell this.

I didn't take my Lamictal this morning.

I ran out and rather than go to the drugstore to pick up my refill-

-I took a nap.

Thought I'd see what it was like to be without Lamictal for a day.

Remember that last post I did about telling my parents everything? Even masturbation?

Heh. I didn't tell my parents about this. Wouldn't have served any purpose. So I withheld it, even though it crossed my mind. Executive function working there.

Are you wondering what I'm about to say?

How was life without Lamictal?

New and familiar at the same time.

I was much less self-conscious. Much less anxious and much less hypersensitive.

These are good things, no? But it was a little out of control, I felt. It's like somebody suddenly took the training wheels off my bike. I got excited talking to my co-worker about my next movie project. I was feeling things I hadn't felt in years.

But tomorrow-

-gotta go back on Lamictal. Not gonna risk some kind of serious mental collapse.

At this point...will I taper down?

Naw, Lamictal doesn't bother me. It's the Zyprexa I want to phase out.

Fuckin anti-psychotics.

It is you readers that I trust with all this info. Heard by everyone and no one.

-pjb

Tight-lipped emotions

2007-11-01T23:03:00.000-05:00

Whatever I come up with has to go through the intermediary of the keyboard, so any authentic expression on my part is filtered like a childhood game of telephone. Many of us have this problem of trying to translate the brilliant idea into a brilliant sentence. One of my favorite quotes about writing is from Mark Twain: "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug."
I just watched "Paths of Glory." It's a really great movie and when I saw the movie ten years ago, it made cry. It was so fucking moving. I have since seen the ending several times and now I can't cry about it. But I still felt a lot. I couldn't express it. It was suffering. I had to express something, but couldn't. Didn't know how. I saw the film with my parents and mom went on a whole exposition about the movie; she made a lot of observations that were spot on and it was almost like I didn't need to add anything. But I was in pain.
Life is suffering. Duh. Writing is how I cope with such feelings. I'm just not interested in movies that don't challenge me in some way. It just so happens that a lot of challenging movies are hella dark.
I'm tired and I have to go to fucking work tomorrow.

My addiction

2007-10-31T15:33:00.000-05:00

I've got a problem, but I'm not sure I should say what it is.

It's how I self-medicate.

I've been doing it since I was 14. It never seemed to interfere with my life
-until now.

I'm talking about pornography.

That is how I have dealt with frustration for 13 years. It's a fucking hard habit to break.

When I feel overwhelmed, I go home, turn on the computer. etc.

All of this kind of fell in my lap. I was a horny 14yr old who was having a performance in band class. Mom and Dad rented a videocamera to document the performance. When we took the camera out of the case, there was already a VHS tape inside. I grabbed it, hoping it would be porn. It was.

I jacked off to that video for the next four years. I did it every damn day after school. I got so hooked I even found a way to get the Playboy channel on our basic cable TV. Well, it was still scrambled, but I was desperate. I didn't lose my virginity til I was 26. To this day I don't think it counted because I didn't even come. I just stopped after about 12 minutes. That was the only time I've had sex.

Without ever having bought so much as a Playboy I was now hooked on porn. In college I withdrew from friends and whacked it to porn I bought through a membership with an online site. It was around that time I was starting to get manic, having onset about six months later.

I'm hooked. I still do it all the time, only now I don't pay for it. I just go to websites that have free 30sec clips. Pretty pathetic, huh? I just watch 30sec clips over and over again until I can come.

It's the quickest, safest way to get relaxed I know of. And it's not even relaxing. But it clears my mind. I want to have a girlfriend, or at least date some girls. I wonder if my addiction is standing in the way of this. Maybe there is some kind of horrible secret from my past that I will discover when I give up porn and have a serious relationship. I've thought before that I was molested, but I don't know. Repressed memories?

Before I ever had a sexual experience with a girl, I had already had a hundred with TVs, VCRs and computers. I'm a loner. At least I don't cut myself.

Some bipolar people are alcoholics. Others smoke pot all the time. I jack off.

everything is BIG in aMOREica

2007-10-26T21:54:00.000-05:00

So little is understated in this country. Anything mainstream - movies, music, advertising, food portion, breasts, muscles, obesity is all HUGE. Movies must push everything to the limit. There is no room for poetry. There are no small statements. The only messages that resonate are the ones the you take right to the edge. Extreme.
Do I really want to end up as a Hollywood filmmaker? I just watched the trailer for Iron Man (2008). It was entertaining, but had no soul. That may sound funny to people who eat only mainstream films. It was a popcorn movie, granted, and I like Robert Downey Jr., but it left me thinking:

Is there any room in Hollywood for small stories?

Probably not. Hollywood is a huge fucking money machine. Billions in worldwide gross. They know what they are and who they are. They make Oscar-hungry movies to be released every December, just in time for candidacy for Oscar nominations. Bait. But most of the time they feed us glamour, fantasy, escape. The kind of entertainment you turn your brain off for. For a lot of people that's great. But for a guy like me, who's seen a lot of movies, I'm more interested in what people can do with the form of filmmaking. Show me something new. Something that shows real people in real situations. But not boring. There's got to be a happy medium between strong, original characters, intelligent writing and entertainment. That's where I come in.

I might see Iron Man. Probably not. I rarely see any movies these days.

The Resolution

2007-10-24T21:01:00.001-05:00

For all of you out there who were left with a cliffhanger after my second to last post - this one's for you.

I didn't communicate with my producer for three days. She didn't respond to my ultimatum about her either fighting for the version of the film I believe in or leaving. I figured she was leaving. My executive producer tried to patch things up between us, and I even sent her an email as a way to compromise. But still no reponse.

My exec. producer said he wanted to see a copy of the film and judge for himself if the changes my prod. wanted to make were necessary. I called him the next day ready to deliver a copy but nobody answered. Then, I went to work, and he went to Indiana. So he never saw the film.

The other day I get an email from my prod. It was a heartfelt request that I reconsider. At this point, fuck artistic integrity, I just wanted to finish the goddamned movie. The idea of having two versions was not so horrible after all.

Things are now kosher between us. There will be a version of the film for friends and participants, and one for broadcast.

What is the Pain?

2007-10-21T22:12:00.000-05:00

The undiscovered continent
adrift between oceans
in the wail
the tear
in the drops of melancholia
the shocking unknown

What is the pain
that we are running from?
We stifle
and self-medicate
we push down on our hearts

What would happen
if we just let go?

A geyser breakthrough
enlightenment shedding light on mediocre secrets
made plain by the suns rays

Freeing, mundane truths
like wild persimmons that drop to the road
whole
sweet
waiting.

What the $#%& do I do?

2007-10-19T11:13:00.000-05:00

My producer has give me an ultimatum. Change the movie or she quits. The changes she supports are minor, but they involve cutting out a person who is very important to the organization depicted, but who is not well-represented in the film. Long story short: this person is really important in real life, but in the movie her segment does not add to the story. THE STORY. The all-important story. I am stuck between three people right now. The man who hired my producer, my producer, and my mother. They are all telling me different things about what I should do. I'm torn. My producer says "Be true to the general audience!" The executive producer says, "Be true to yourself!" Mom says, "Be true to the community you're representing!"

I think I know what I need to do, but it's pretty radical.

My producer says she'll quit if I go for myself.

Maybe she should quit.

The movie's almost done. The hospital is interested in distributing the movie as an educational tool.

It would be seen by some people. My producer wants it to be seen by millions.

I don't want to sell out.

If I give up on this movie, what's next? If I let them intimidate me...who's to say the egos on the next movie will be even worse?

I'm never moving to Hollywood.

I have about an hour to respond to my producer's last email. I have to go to work in an hour and fifteen minutes. I want to keep asking people what I should do...but really what I need to do is be true to myself.

The Wrap-Up

2007-10-14T21:17:00.001-05:00

It was awesome.

Two hundred people all standing up, cheering, some with tears in their eyes. Looking at me. I modeled my behavior after Martin Scorsese that night. I said "Thank you" repeatedly and motioned with my hands for the crowd to stop clapping and sit down. Scorsese is always so humble, so uncomfortable with fame. I wanted this to last so I didn't enjoy it too much. Now that it's all over I wish I could have stopped trying to be humble, to be eloquent and in control, and just taken it all in. Sixteen months of hard work. The recognition I have always wanted. A reaction I did not expect and could not have hoped for. That standing ovation felt like my arrival as a filmmaker.

10:50p.m. on night before premiere of my most important film to date

2007-10-10T21:47:00.000-05:00

Did I lose my soul?

Did I ever have one to begin with?

The power to love
is it mine alone to lack?

Can this line be drawn across gender?
Across country of origin?

My goodness
is it real - feigned - phony?

What do I want in my heart of hearts?

What do I believe in

what if its nothing
just money
and furthering my own ego

Will guilt hold me accountable?

Or am stuck on the path of me me me

Take and give nothing in return.

It's all so overwhelming

2007-10-09T22:18:00.000-05:00

Somebody commented on my blog that Sept/Oct is a very difficult time for us bipolars. Top that off with the premiere of a documentary on mental illness and creativity that I have been working on for a year. Add a full-time day job into that, with a six day work week the week of the premiere. I am beat. I am also worried that I am not pleasing my producer enough. I'm kind of like the Nicolas Cage character in that movie, "Adaptation". His producer never says anything bad to him, in fact, she praises him, but all he can think about is how terrible he is. Fat, untalented, bald. There are people out there like this.

My producer loves the movie I've made. In fact, she's more excited about it than I am. I don't particularly know much about computers or editing software. I worry that she expects me to be an expert on that stuff, so we can zoom right through things. My dad once said that the two main hang-ups men have are competence and sex. Women want to be competent too, but I think the male ego is more fragile than the female. A man's job becomes what he is. If he's no good at it, he's no good. Period.

I'm tired....But the work still needs to be done. I work every day. First at the grocery store, then with my producer. Before I make another film, I need to work on myself. Namely, get back into the dating pool. That unfortunately can be a job unto itself. Love gives you confidence. That's what I need to be a successful filmmaker. I want to be in love.

Today, I had an epiphany. As I often have while stocking pears. The last girl I dated that I really really liked - well, I never made a move. We dated for two years. On and off, but mostly on. We went to movies all the time. She was such a great girl. Very smart with a great sense of humor. She had a beautiful laugh. But I wasn't physically into her. She was very small, almost like a child. The main reason we never got together is because she was a devout Christian. I was a virgin and didn't want to get tied down until I'd had some sex. I have since had sex and now know it is not the be-all end all for me. I'm not the kind of person who needs to have sex with someone other than myself.

For some reason, we went to get pizza after about two years of chaste dating...and I brought up the topic: What if we were together? She said, "You're finally bringing this up." It had to do with the Christian thing. She said, "If we got married then it would be weird because the kids would say, 'Why isn't daddy coming to church with us?" We were sort of at a stalemate, and not just because of my passivity. We remained friends.

She got engaged to a devout Christian. She asked me to photograph the wedding. It was my first wedding job. I had color and black and white film. I was also getting manic. I just got back from the Mojave Desert for a family reunion. I conned my psychiatrist into thinking I was getting lithium toxicity, so he told me to stop taking it.

I bought a red filter to shoot infrared film in the desert. During the wedding, I photographed the bridesmaids with color film...but left the red filter on. I wasn't thinking straight. I had my third break a week later.

My girl friend found out the pix were now bright red. This is every wedding photographer's nightmare. We only communicated by email. She didn't want to talk me. She said she was very disappointed. To be the good business man (and good friend) I said, send me only how much money the pix are worth to you." They weren't all red, and the ones that were I converted to black and white.

She didn't send me any money. I never heard from her again.

There's other fish in the sea.

They Talked Like Old Friends

2007-10-04T21:45:00.000-05:00

A rolled cigarette shared
from an eight dollar bucket of tobacco
bridged the gap between
many years of pain
and estrangement

They talked like old friends
His affect was flat
distant
You didn't know what was going on in his head

The other was engaging
lively and doing well
He was married.

As the smoke curled into the ceiling
And the TV blared on the carpet
The paintings on cardboard draped the walls
We three
sat in the makeshift studio
Drum. Cymbal. Hundred-strong record collection.
Two cigarettes were rolled
He didn't know how to do it
so the old pro rolled it for him
He said he'd do it -
-as long as the other didn't mind spit.

He had permanent brown tar stains inbetween two fingertips
He was a voracious smoker
I watched him as he drag
and drag
and puffed out
compulsive

We watched my movie about their lives and others.
At the end, he said it was good.
Realizing we all played instruments
we agreed to get together again
and jam

They talked like old friends
Felled by illness
Back together
but not on equal footing

Smoky night
Cerebral night
Schizophrenic night

Sugar Shock

2007-09-29T12:18:00.000-05:00

I was feeling so good today. I slept great. I was full of energy. Had a healthy breakfast. Was gettin' things done.

And then...I decided I would take the good feelings even higher.

I drizzled about three tablespoons of raw honey into my mouth.

It tasted so good.

But it didn't take long. Only a couple minutes, really.

I crashed.

Now I feel like shit. No energy. Headache. Sugar shock.

I should know better. This has happened plenty of times before. Happiness seems so short-lived sometimes.

Anyway, I thought writing would help me get over it.

HEED THIS WARNING: SUGAR IS THE DEVIL'S MEDICINE!

-p

Nighttime Musings

2007-09-26T22:03:00.000-05:00

Tonight I write about today. Things seem to be shaping up for me. I am using "The Ultimate." It is great, but I have encountered technical glitches with the program I use to edit this documentary. These are annoying setbacks. But I am confident I will overcome them. The woman who is paid to help me told me I am "brilliant." I don't think she was pissing on my shoes; I think she is genuinely impressed with my talent. I don't want to count my chickens before they're hatched, or especially not get my hopes up...but odds are I will get that job I wanted. I am making a great impression with her, and she in turn works with the people I want to work with. You don't know how much I want to quit my job at the grocery store. Or maybe you do. It has been - a valuable experience. However, it's more than time to move on. I am writing a screenplay about working there. For six years (and counting) I have been thrust in a working class environment, dealt with truckers and other people who don't have nearly the education I have. When I first started, and had to pick up, wet, dirty wax boxes of lettuce and empty the contents in the sink, I thought, "I'm too delicate for this." But now that job is what I know best. It would make great fodder for a movie, as long as you kept things moving.

Thanks for reading.

(by the way, this was my 200th post!)

Got "The Ultimate" today

2007-09-22T11:04:00.000-05:00

I spent $2,300 dollars to get the new iMac G5. 24" screen. 2.8 gHz processor. 2GB of RAM. When I approached the salesman, I started to list these features so he would understand which one I wanted to buy, and he interrupted me, and said, "You want the Ultimate..."

I got the Ultimate.

It wasn't my money, it was a gift from my philanthropist neighbor. Still, I have a to work a full time job to get health benefits, so I don't have hardly any time to work on this movie.

It's cool to make such a big purchase and lug home this amazing computer (which was in a huge box and weighed like 60 pounds) but I feel a little guilty. A little paranoid. Like I should have inspected the computer before I bought it. Whatever. That will pass.

Now what I want is to skip work today (yes, it's Saturday and I have to work) and setup up this beautiful behemoth. Oh, to dream of the day when I don't need to work a day job to get by.

I just thought of something. Wal-Mart sells generic drugs cheaply. You still need a prescription but I think you can get a month's supply of Lithium for $5. Maybe I could work something out with my psychiatrist where he could keep writing prescriptions for me without me having to have insurance cover the premium...well, that's pretty impossible. I can't get by without health insurance. Just a passing wild thought.

Job

2007-09-16T14:01:00.000-05:00

I feel like I may have shot myself in the foot over this new job I want. I'm blogging from work (blorking) and I'm a little paranoid. Don't want my co-worker to walk in the office while I'm pouring my soul into something so blatantly non-work-related.
Anyway, back to my original point. It worries me because there was talk of me being promoted, but I keep hearing that other co-workers of mine (who haven't been here as long as I have) are being delegated to do the tasks of a senior employee who is leaving the department. When he told me he got another job I was happy for him, and then in my review my boss gave me a raise and asked me to start taking more initiative in the department: leadership.
It has been my intention to quit this job for awhile, so I haven't shown more iniative, b/c, I don't want them to train me to do tasks that would then be dumped on someone else once I leave. But I know that if I got promoted before I left it would look good to my new employer. I'm just too moral to lead my boss on and think that am serious about this job and want it to be my career.
Maybe I could have gotten a promotion if I manipulated my boss into thinking I really wanted it, but that's not me. I also feel pretty confident that I will get this other job I really want. But more on that later...

I've been taking my medication all this time, but...

2007-09-14T23:17:00.001-05:00

I have a feeling I should have been hospitalized weeks ago.

I'm having violent thoughts. My attention span is lightning quick. The stress has piled up so fast I didn't even see it coming. I feel overwhelmed. But I don't want to be hospitalized. For one thing, under my new insurance I would be sent to a hospital I've never been to. Nobody wants to take a chunk out of their life for something like a psychiatric commitment.

I'm closer to realizing my dreams than I ever was before. I'm editing a documentary that a new neighbor has given me $8,500 for, no strings attached. He has hired a professional consultant from Beverly Hills to supervise the editing and advise me on the publicity. She has already given me some severe notes. I feel pressure.

I'm bipolar. There's no changing it. How many people living with mental illness can survive in the entertainment industry? In the non-stop stress rollercoaster that is being a director? That's what I want to do, and what I've done on a small scale. Now it's getting bigger. And that's great. But with that growth comes more stress and anxiety. If I go up on meds I'll be too doped up to command a crew, let alone be passionate about anything.

Time to sleep. Eat well. Exercise. Avoid negative influences. Pop some provisional anti-psychotics if the occasion demands it.

Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.

Daniel Johnston

2007-09-13T19:08:00.001-05:00

Just saw the documentary about him. I was very moved for a number of reasons.

One, I was sad to see this once handsome, charming young man, now morbidly obese and ugly and half as talented as he once was. It was scary for me to think I might end up this way. Medication.

Two, I was moved because he is still a beautiful human being. The final scene was so poignant it bordered on parody, but never did I laugh at Daniel.

Three, I was moved because he lives with his eighty-year old parents and at the end of the film, the director plays a tape from when Daniel was a teenager and he speaks his worst fear for the microphone: "My worst fear is that I won't be able to buy my parents a home when they get old." In the context of the scene it was very poignant. Here is a man who cannot support himself and relies on his ancient parents to survive, juxtaposed with his idealistic youth wish to provide FOR THEM. This tape was pre-onset. He is manic-depressive.

I, too am manic-depressive and live with my parents. I function at a higher level than Daniel. But still I could identify with him.

Not many people have seen this film, but you can find it out there, if not at your local indie video store, then maybe NetFlix.

Lonerism vs. Group Mentality

2007-09-11T22:01:00.000-05:00

I think it's possible to choose between the two.

It may be an "act" to laugh at others jokes and forget yourself in a group of people, but loners can do it. I know I can do it. For me, lonerism is quite simply feeling superior to other people. Thoughts like, "I could hang out with my friends and drink, but my personal projects are more important." Or even other thoughts like, "That girl is really hot. But rather than talk to her, I'm just going to think about her while I masturbate, because that will be better." Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver said, "I don't want to devote my life to morbid self-attention. I think I should become a person like other people." In many ways its conservative to be a loner. I am a loner when I cannot get mental illness out of my head. I am a loner when I take myself so seriously I am convinced I am abnormal and nobody else has these concerns I have. It's not even depression. It's more like a pity party. To those people who isolate, I say, "Don't take yourself so seriously."

The Unmasculine Act

2007-09-06T11:56:00.000-05:00

With whatever energy I have left
I want to dive into bed and throw the down blanket
over my whole body
Curl up inside the welcoming darkness
like an infant in the womb
I want to hide and abscond from
my overhelming responsibilities.
A single man in front of a towering brick wall
am I
with savage warriors approaching from the rear
I must scale the wall before I am skewered on their spears
and smashed with their maces.
The myriad anxieties of my job
my fearsome boss
my negative self talk
these things make me want to stay in my room
fetal
passive
safe
There is only one known analgesic to my suffering:
The companionship of a woman
to ease my pain
make me feel whole again
take this broken man
and build him back up again
But futile wishing brings no one in
I will remain a single man
until I turn toward the risk in life
and close the curtain
on the unmasculine act.

My family

2007-09-04T15:58:00.000-05:00

A couple months ago I travelled to Poland with my parents for my cousin's wedding. She lives in Italy now, with her Croatian-Italian husband, but they came up to the Polish city of Zary so that her closest relatives could attend the wedding. It was a huge celebration and I took hundreds of pictures with my digital camera. Unfortunately, me being the novice digital photographer, I accidentally deleted all of them on the train leaving Poland.
The users manual said once photos are deleted, there's no way to get them back. I feared the worst. I took the CP card to a camera store where they assured me the photos could be recovered. No dice.
My cousin had already been told that the photos were gone. As a last ditch effort, I gave the CP card to my bipolar friend who insisted he could help me.
He did.
Using a software program that the camera store had apparently not heard of, he was able to recover 122 of the 206 photographs I took. The rest were corrupted or completely written over. I just emailed some of the best pics to my cousin with the heading "Miracolo!" which means "Miracle!" in Italian.
Here is a photograph I emailed my cousin. I like it because it because it shows the bride and groom looking expectantly at their cake, presented to them by two professional attendants. The wedding couple deserved their treatment as king and queen.

National Hollerin' Contest, et. al

2007-08-24T22:46:00.000-05:00

Watch this. I made it.

Here is the trailer for my current project on mental illness and creatiivity.

Blorking

2007-08-24T18:03:00.000-05:00

Last night I was in a crippling depression and prolonged anxiety attack. I felt hopeless when I went to work this morning. But now I am at a peak of confidence and self esteem. Why? Part of it can be attributed to good events in my life (getting a good review and pay raise) but the bulk of this dramatic shift is undoubtedly due to my illness. It's called rapid cycling, and I've learned I do it a lot.

I gotta get back to work.

This is on my mind

2007-08-20T12:36:00.000-05:00

Mom is mad at me for sleeping late. She is concerned that I'm not taking my meds at 12-hour intervals. She feels if she doesn't come knock on my door, I won't take my morning meds til quarter of two, fifteen minutes before I have to go to work. She thinks, "How can he be independent if he can't even take care of the most important part of his day without me nagging him?" I have never found any side effects from taking morning meds late. I know it doesn't "look good" but I am just too fucking tired sometimes to get out of bed at 9 and stay out of bed til I have to go to work. Usually what I do is get up about 9-9:30, eat breakfast, take meds, and then go back to sleep til about noon. Today I just felt too overwhelmed to do that. Whenever I go to the bathroom, I feel drained, I guess both literally and figuratively. The day seems so intimidating that I just want to crawl back into bed. I can always fall back asleep quickly and have the most comforting dreams. I do want to have my own place and think I will do just fine on my own. Mom wants to know if I am depressed. I don't know. I still am interested in the things that make me happy (for the most part...well maybe not). I'm pretty disinterested in sex these days, and find it hard to get into this movie I rented...I don't know if I'm depressed, because I've felt this way for so long. I fucking hate anti-psychotics. If anything, I think my Zyprexa is contributing to my lethargic mood. I want to get off that shit. I haven't seen my psychiatrist in two months, not since going to Europe back in June. I'm going to have to schedule an appointment b/c I'm almost out of meds, but he hasn't shown much initiative in contacting me. I really hate my job now and can't wait until I can find out more about this other company in Raleigh that might be interested in hiring me. At the same time, I have doubts. If I can't even get up at 11a.m. to get my oil changed, how can I live in a bigger city by myself with a stressful new job? My sister and her husband also live in Raleigh as do a couple friends from film school that I haven't talked to in years. I wouldn't be totally alone. But I just want to be able to fucking hold up; not have a psychotic break, and be happy and well.

Art Takes Time

2007-08-18T11:59:00.000-05:00

My drugs make me sleepy all the time. As a result I make bad judgments on this documentary I'm making. I was about to mail the latest DVD version to this potential marketer, but then I decided to preview it to my parents first. Boy am I glad I did. There were some really bad choices I made, especially with music. Very inappropriate in most cases, like cheesy organ jazz accompanying an interview with a person talking about BPD. My parents kept asking me what I was thinking. Truth is I was just so tired from working all day, I had to force myself to work on this project. You can't force art. I made some bad judgment (that I agree is bad judgment) because I was tired, and probably hypomanic too. I sent the marketer an email asking for more time. I can fix this.

I'm on my way

2007-08-10T12:17:00.000-05:00

Today I had lunch with Brian, the man who's been funding my documentary. He brought along Debbie, high-powered business woman who does a variety of jobs. They are all centered around marketing and promotion of documentaries. We sat and ate for an hour and a half, with Brian acting as moderator. This was the first time I met Debbie and the purpose of the meeting was to see if we would be compatible in a business partnership.

I think we're gonna be compatible.

Brian offered to pay her to help me promote my documentary. The movie is almost done and the next step is to send her a DVD screener. She will watch it and the decide if she's passionate enough to pursue it. If not, she'll say no. I appreciate her no-bullshit attitude.

Last night I set up the computer to burn a DVD and went to bed. Four hours later I woke up and removed the DVD and turned the computer off. The only reason I woke up when I did is because I haven't been sleeping well lately. Two nights ago I couldn't fall asleep and later found that the Zyprexa pill had backwashed from my mouth and stuck in the empty glass I drank from. Pretty random. I took 50mg of Seroquel this morning and got some sleep before my lunch appointment.

Brian has complete faith in me. And he has barely seen any of my work, but he insists I'm going to be a great filmmaker. What a guy.

why do i see strangers faces when i close my eyes?

2007-08-05T22:21:00.000-05:00

Every night it happens
I lay in bed
I close my eyes

Tonight I saw a smiling girl with a blonde mohawk
Last night I saw a black man with kind eyes and trim hair

Faces I've never seen before
People I'll never admit I've known

After orgasm, I see them
Do they exist?
Are they somewhere
Will I meet them?

Why do they smile at me?
They come at me and I deflect them
They are gone in an instant
Leaving me wondering
Why
Who
How

Some say it is meaningless to find significance in the everyday coincidence

They don't see faces when they close their eyes

Or maybe they do and they won't admit them

My mind is a miniature psych ward

those faces are my patients
my charges
They have been admitted to my mind
I can only describe them in mundane terms
They live in my head
like chimps at the zoo

How can I explain so you would understand?
These are not actors I have seen in some movie
I do not recognize them
I have never seen them in real life
before or after
their appearance in my head

They seem to be happy in my head
Just as a director can visualize a shot
and a painter can see the finished product before
he even begins his masterpiece
and as a sculptor can see the figure in the slab of granite

So I see them.
You.
and You.

Ten people die every ten seconds

Leaving only an imprint

Do they stop and see me before they go?

Worries

2007-08-03T22:04:00.000-05:00

As my documentary gets further to completion, I have these waking nightmares that my computer will suddenly fry itself, zapping my video files to a hitherto inaccessible location, forcing me start from scratch. I don't cry much anymore, what with being on mood stabilizers for six years, but I think the surreptitious deletion of this project upon which I have worked for over a year would most certainly reduce me to tears.
But that hasn't happened yet. God willing (or whomever) the project will be done, burned to a DVD and ready to be shown at its premiere on October 11th, Mental Health Awareness Week. I want it to be good. Really good. I've worked on it a lot, and I think it is getting better. I admit, that I want the movie to be as good as a Kubrick film. Kubrick is the ultimate craftsman; a true visual perfectionist. I feel competitive with him. Now, his movies are about as far removed as my documentary as is humanly possible....but still, I want it to be as consumately crafted as The Shining. There is even a reference to 2001 in my doc.
I worry that something will go wrong, but I think it's just the excitement I feel at the possibility of finishing something so meaningful to me. This documentary will be the most important act of my life up to this point.
All I want to do is make movies. 'Til I can do that for a living, I will work in a grocery store to pay the bills and make movies on the side.

Working Man Blues

2007-07-29T12:59:00.000-05:00

Pluses of my day job:

- Discount on food/lunches on the clock
- Great social atmosphere
- Very good health benefits (essential for bipolar folks)
- Decent pay for what the job is
- Very familiar; know the job well, been doing it for six years
- Good opportunity for networking
- Not mentally taxing so I have time for my treasured artistic projects

Minuses of my day job:

- I'm completely overqualified for it
- Working class atmosphere; don't fit in or feel at home
- Some people who are AWFUL to work with
- Boring. Repetitive. Did I mention repetitive?
- Dead end job; no possibility of advancement (not that I would even want that)

Well, logic dictates that if the negatives outweight the positives, you should look for a new job. But that's not the case in this situation. I'll still check out other options...

If there's anyone else out there from North Carolina, my short documentary about the National Hollerin' Contest will be shown on TV on MWF at 9pm starting 8/6. Find out what channel it will be on at www.secondcinema.com

Take care, babes.

Notes from the trip

2007-07-23T12:21:00.000-05:00

9:30 p.m. June 25th, 2007

Flying over the Atlantic

We barely caught the plane, only to wait an hour and a half on the tarmac. A distinctly Deutsch voice on the intercom told twenty planes had to take off from JFK airport before we would get our chance. Once aboard we were promised a gourmet meal, grilled chicken breast in orange chipotle sauce with mashed sweet potatoes and a medly of corn and bell peppers as well as a quality Hollywood movie. No promises were fulfilled.

As you probably guessed, the "gourmet" meal was better suited for astronauts used to entire meals arriving in a single, rectangular-shaped plastic dish, covered with a thin, protective cellophane film, of course. After the meal we did a lot of sitting. Seven hours worth. In that time I ogled the two girls who were in my line of sight. One, a pretty young German, was kind of geeky. She had caterpillar-furry eyebrows (which I liked) and thick black frame reading glasses whose magnifying powers I could see from sitting one row back and to the right.

The other girl, a woman I should say, was not in a good spot for ogling, as she was one row back and to the left. But ogle her I did, briefly, and when it was convenient. Her hair was a wild tangle of blonde curls. She was short but with voluptuous full-figure that would make R. Crumb dip his pen once more for good measure. This seized me with an urge to join the mile-high club. I envisioned her husband as the big, strong breadwinner, a man who is financially successful enough to pay for his trophy wife to travel across continents with her Pomeranian in her carry-on. I'm serious. She had a purse dog in her handbag. The poor thing was trapped in there with the zipper shut for the whole flight. Didn't make a sound the whole trip.

All of a sudden, Blondie stands up. Her seatmate, a young American has excused himself to the lavatory. She checks on the dog. Her large butt prevents me from seeing the dog. So I settle with the view I have. She stands all the while her seatmate is gone. Then, before he returns, she sits down. He returns and they resume their conversation, no acknowledgement of the purse dog made.

Beside me are my parents. Mom, the yoga enthusiast, sitting in lotus position, is draped with an airline blanket, her eyes hidden by what she calls, "the most comfortable eye mask I have ever used." Dad reads Newsweek. It is 10:50p.m. and he is not tired. Neither am I.

Ouch.

2007-07-18T16:41:00.000-05:00

That's right. The camera store was unable to recover my 200 digital photos.

Hope is pretty much lost, but there's one thing I will try next. Visit a digital photography online forum and see if anyone there has any advice.

At least I wasn't charged for the scanning of the memory card. The employee took pity on me.

This sucks.

I'm Back

2007-07-13T08:39:00.000-05:00

My trip is over and I have returned to the U.S. Nobody commented on the five poems I wrote before I left! They're there, if you just scroll down a few posts. I gotta say, being back in North Carolina is lame. Here is a concise recap of my Eastern European odyssey:

HIGHLIGHTS:

- Great food all around. Deep-fried Polish doughnuts coated with a cognac and lemon zest glaze and filled with plum jam. Hand-ground beef cutlets also fried and served with homemade mushroom sauce. Delicious farmer's market fresh strawberries and black currants. Succulent mint ice cream made from all natural ingredients and lastly
DOBRY POLKSI PIWO! (good Polish beer)

- Wonderful wedding reception; Polish weddings really do last until 4 in the morning. I danced with pretty girls including my Polish cousins and the lovely bride. I drank Vodka and shot the wedding video. No, I was able to hold the camera steady.

- I met many wonderful people of various nationalities. Marco, an unforgettable Italian man who spoke no Polish, but was the boyfriend of the bride's sister. He became the hero of the wedding as he stood up countless times that night and raised a bottle of vodka in air, screaming the only Polish words he knew: "Let's drink again!" There was Roberto, Giulio and Katarina, all friends and relatives of the Italian groom. It was also great to see my aunts and uncles again. When we first met my aunt Ewa at the Berlin airport, we were speaking three languages to communicate: German, English and Polish.

- One of the people I hadn't seen in eight years is a film professor at a university where my dad used to teach English. The three of us went out to dinner in the old square in Poznan. We talked about film and politics and the professor asked me to write an article for the film journal his university publishes!

- I took hundreds of digital photos from the trip, which I narrowed down to 200 great shots!

LOWS:

- I mistakenly deleted all 200 digital photos on the train leaving Poland.

- When we arrived in Berlin on the way from the U.S., we were told at the airpot that half our luggage was lost and the other half was sent to California and Oregon.

- We spent way too much time in our relatives apartments with nothing to do.

- Our living quarters were extremely cramped and cluttered due to our welcoming but poor relatives.

- I had to endure hellish, day after day arguing, worrying and shouting between my fucking annoying parents.

- My iPod broke! The LCD screen cracked after being jostled around in my backpack for a couple days. I had no idea it was so fucking delicate!

- Ultimately, while the trip was great, I got sick of not understanding what everyone around me was saying. Trying to decipher Polish conversations was a strain on my brain.

- All that flying...

AND LASTLY....

- I don't know if this is a high or a low, but when I got on the plane from JFK to Raleigh/Durham there was a man sitting in my seat. I showed him my ticket and he apologized. He then stood and looked confused. He showed me his ticket stub and he was on the WRONG FUCKING PLANE. He didn't seem to know any English and he was supposed to go to Washington D.C. JFK Airport is the most disorganized airport I have ever been to. How could they have allowed this guy to get on a completely different plane at a completely different gate?! And everyone there was rude. This was a low.

Today I will call the vendor who sold me my digital camera and see there is any way to retrieve those lost photos.

Take care of yourself!

You Don't See Me

2007-06-20T16:56:00.000-05:00

Our place of toil and disgrace
houses your dissatisfaction
manifest on your face
as I walk past
You hate your life
You don't see me

When I am away
I am awake
When I return
I am invisible
A faceless entity
You don't know me

You work in fear
You fear mundane
It colors your perception
You become mundane

When I am back with a spark
It ignites your blindness
You don't recognize me
In your miserable existence
I don't exist.

The Loner

2007-06-20T16:45:00.000-05:00

He treads the shadow-stained streets
Alone in a crowd
Collar turned up
He passes picnic tables
populated by those he once vaguely knew
A girl
Who knows his name and little else
He drinks of her eyes
Like walnut shells darkened by the rain
Her hair knotted like a loaf of bread
She seems happy with her friends
And a yearning to join
Passes
As the fear of being spotted sets in
He would rather wear the cloak of night
the stars his parents
Seeing not being.

A Fast River

2007-06-18T22:36:00.000-05:00

Surging
from a trickle over a dam
into a full-on current

A fast river races like a system of veins
pumping blood
rushing adrenaline

The power
of force
of nature and intent

A fast river cannot be contained
The build-up of heavy rain
explodes welcome over parched earth

A lucky river will taste salt
and merge
with a hungry ocean.

The Sculptor

2007-06-18T22:30:00.000-05:00

I eat so little these days
My gaunt frame stands still
A powerful thread pulls up through my spine
Holding me erect while my skeleton droops
My knuckles swell
My stomach shrinks
Drive, my mania demon says
I bury my appetite in work
It drains
It sucks
But I can't stop
Carving a stone into sculpture
is my passion
Until the work absorbs me
And I can't tell my gaunt frame from the sculpture
and the sculpture from me.

My mind

2007-06-18T22:12:00.000-05:00

My mind races
like a ceiling fan
going nowhere
spinning its wheels like
an overturned toy truck

My mind goes on and on
endlessly comparing itself
to tomorrow
and this next verse
and this next verse

My mind
the architect
of buildings
that crumble before they are finished
and the thoughts that gather among the rubble

My mind knows
the state of things
and is still a foreigner
in my body
Boundaries disobeyed

My mind betrays
my truest intentions
My uncensored needs
that I can't bottle up
and hide

My mind is the
worst form of truth serum
and when it sleeps with fear
I spiral into shame
as brain leaps out the window

My mind
is out to get me
He is sometimes my friend
but on one condition:

Protection.